


War of the Flame

by northernxstories



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Auction, BDSM, Breeding, Dark, Death, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kidnapping, M/M, Multi, Murder, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Assault, Sexual Slavery, Slave Trade, Slavery, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:28:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28925847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northernxstories/pseuds/northernxstories
Summary: 97 Years ago, world conflict led to the nuclear apocalypse. Humanity survived. They rebuilt and the strongest of the survivors claimed positions of leadership. Territorial lines formed and the economy rebuilt. Before the arrival of Skaikru, there were seven Clans dividing up the territory along the east coast of what used to be Canada and the United States of America. At the beginning of this twisted tale, Azgeda and its allies and Trikru and its allies are at a tentative peace, although the core of the conflict has yet to be resolved. Queen Lexa and Queen Ontari both desire the position of Commander but need a unanimous vote at the Conclave to claim it. Only then will they be gifted by the Flamekeepers with the Flame. To take it in violence is not permitted and the Flame will reject the host if such a thing were attempted. So the conflict rages on.This work contains content that may beextremelytriggering. Please heed the trigger warnings.Updates will be posted every Friday.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Echo, Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Emori/John Murphy (The 100), Emori/Raven Reyes, Eric Jackson/Nathan Miller, Monty Green/Harper McIntyre, Octavia Blake/Lincoln, gaia/otan
Comments: 35
Kudos: 32





	1. OOC Notes

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: In this work, I am attempting to write exclusively from the perspective of the grounders. Please feel free to comment on my interpretation. I'd love to hear your thoughts. These characters range from the good to the very dark. I am already five chapters into this story and there are dark days ahead for some of our loves. First Chapter is just a set up/ooc information chapter about the universe.

**_The 100 but Canon Divergent as follows:_ **

The east coast of North America is divided into seven clans with two free cities as follows: 

  1. Trikru, led by Queen Lexa - vying for position of Commander. Her mentor is Lady Anya.
  2. Boudalankru, lead by King Gustus (allied with Trikru)
  3. Trishanakru, lead by Queen Indra (allied with Trikru)
  4. Azgeda, led by Queen Ontari and her brother, Roan. Ontari is vying for the position of Commander. Formerly led by Queen Nia, mother of Roan.
  5. Sangedakru, led by King Malachi. (allied with Azgeda)
  6. Podakru, led by King Zoran. (allied with Azgeda)
  7. Floukru, lead by Queen Luna (unallied)
  8. City of Polis. Residence of the Flamekeepers, who protect the Flame until a true Commander rises. A thriving city and centre of trade. Location of the slave markets. No weapons are permitted in Polis and any conflict within her boundaries would be a breach of the Treaty that preserves the peace.
  9. City of Light. The only known location that permits no slavery etc. It is governed by a Council rather than an individual, and its primary source of protection from the other territories is the Dead Zone and Floukru’s lack of ambition for territorial expansion.



Azgeda and Trikru and their respective allies have been in conflict for decades, although they are currently at a tentative peace until the arrival of Skaikru to shake things up again.

Natblida are the only ones who can challenge for the Flame and usually come to live in the Capital or principal community of their territory around the age of 15. Natblida may also pledge their loyalty to another Natblida and live their lives in service to them, encouraged to have children to pass on the nightblood they carry.

Currently the battle is between Azgeda - the ruthless Queen Ontari and her brother, Roan (the Haihefa) and Trikru - the equally ruthless Queen Lexa. 

Trade and barter are primary forms of economy but there is currency as well called a ‘dola’.

There are three products of value in this world:

  1. Food and Medicines;
  2. Horses and other domestic animals (aka cattle, sheep, goats); and
  3. Slaves (primarily to assist with farming, breeding and for entertainment/pleasure).



There is a community thriving in the City of Light that is obsessed with recreating old technology and collects it.

There is also a group known as the Archivists who strive to record history and go through old records. Their scribes are given a free pass to travel and claim a right to a guest privilege in any community. They cannot participate in conflict and if they break this oath then they will be stripped of their position.

A crime of a free person is subject to discipline by their Leader (Heda or Hefa) or appointed Arbiter of Justice and sufficiently serious crimes are subject to the penalty of having their freedom stripped from them and sold at auction including any minor children they may have.

A crime of a slave is subject to the penalty as determined by their owner.

Submissives cannot own slaves, it is a privilege reserved for Dominants.

People did not magically forget how to learn to build or make things post-apocalypse but each community does have its own style of construction based on the knowledge base of its community and the available materials. 

Books are highly prized as sources of knowledge and entertainment. 

**Note:** eliminating the Mountain Men, ALIE and Praimfaya plotlines. There is no _deus ex machina_ to save these crazy muppets from the messes they are making.


	2. offense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Skaikru continue to fail at diplomacy.

**_Ontari_ **

Ontari tipped her head to the side and considered the young woman in front of her. She and Echo were nearly the same age and in some ways they had led similar lives. Both were taken by Queen Nia as young children. They were raised and educated under the woman’s instruction. There the similarities ended. Echo was born a submissive and a typical red-blooded female. Ontari on the other hand was the first nightblood born in over two decades in Azgeda territory.

She was too young to remember but she was advised as a child that her parents had sold her to the Queen. This had left the young girl a spark of hope that she would one day meet them. Much later she was told by one of the warriors in Nia’s service that her parents had refused to part with her and the former Queen had ordered their executions. If they had thought to sting the girl with these words, they were mistaken. Ontari had long lost interest in an ordinary life. She couldn’t say if it had been Nia’s training or her own darker nature given room to blossom but Ontari was a sharp, strong child who had grown into a vicious and beautiful woman.

Her only thought at the announcement of her parents’ deaths was that it was rather short-sighted of the old bitch considering they should have been bred out as many times as possible to see if they could produce another nightblood. That’s what she would have done after all. Ontari drew her robe around her tightly, enjoying the caress of the warm fur against her skin as she watched the beautiful Echo shiver in her pitiful nudity, her nipples hard jewels in the crisp air. Perfection.

“You will stay behind in the manor.” she ordered brusquely, a fingertip tracing over that little peak and watched as Echo nodded and whispered respectfully, “Yes, my Queen.”

“Good. I do not wish for anyone in Polis to see your face. I’ve used you so far primarily to spy on our allies, Sangedakru and Podakru. I debated sending you to determine if Queen Luna may be persuaded to join us but the woman has no ambition beyond her little islands and her mewling whelps. She can stay on the other side of the Dead Zone for all I care.” Ontari continued and then pinched Echo’s nipple harshly as if she were responsible for Luna’s pacifist ways. The submissive gasped softly, the pain intensified by the chill in the air. She was afraid. Ontari could taste that delightful terror like the sweetest candy, melting on her tongue. 

Echo grew up with Queen Nia and learned not to show her fear. She was a good spy and had proven again and again her loyalty to Azgeda. Yet, she feared Ontari. The petite Queen leaned forward and sucked gently on the submissive’s nipple, making another kind of gasp form on Echo’s lips. Then she bit, hard enough to taste that coppery tang before she released. She had to work hard not to deliberately scar Echo in obvious ways. Too many scars would give away the game, and potentially prevent her from being a good little sub to the right Dominant in exchange for access to the information that Ontari craved. One day though, when Echo stopped being useful, the young Queen would finally get to make use of the submissive the way she wanted. If the fates were kind to Echo, she would not survive the first night.

Ontari watched as the blood trickled down from Echo’s breast, puddling on the floor in shiny, bright droplets. It warmed the cool marble of the floor of the throne room and added a splash of colour, literally, to the stark space. As white with swirls of pale blue as the ice for which their people were named. Azgeda. The Ice Nation. One day, Azgeda would rule them all, as they should, with the Commander’s designation that was rightfully hers. 

First, she needed to dispose of her enemies. Fortunately, these new additions, the Skaikru as they had come to be known, were making such a mess that she wasn’t at all sure she’d need to lift a finger except to stir the pot just a little. These Skaikru were causing offence to all and making an enemy of her enemies. It opened the door for so many possibilities. She just needed to be observant and see which one most expeditiously accomplished her goals and, perhaps, acquire a few more playthings where she didn’t need to worry about allowing them to leave with their pretty faces intact. 

“One day, Echo. One day, you will be mine.” she pledged. With another, it may have been an idle threat but Echo’s strength despite her lowly designation of submissive was an irritant. She wanted to stamp it out. So it was a promise from one woman to another and a Dominant to a submissive she disdained.

“I am yours, my Queen.” Echo returned with the politically necessary good manners.

“If only it were enough.” Ontari snarled, unhappy with Echo’s continued obedience, “Roan? My brother?” She turned slowly and smiled at her adoptive sibling. He was Nia’s heir but being a redblood meant he was forever doomed to be a prince and never a king. He was at least a Dominant. Rumour had it that the Queen had other children but they were all executed when their designation symbols had come in, left to die on the forest floor like the _freikdreina_. The Queen would not tolerate a submissive of her bloodline to survive.

“Yes, Ontari.” He replied, his voice smooth and sultry as always. He had honeyed words and a kinder manner but they were two of the same cloth. Their frequent playtimes with the pretty things they acquired had proven that many times over the years. He was also the only one who had the right to use her first name without its accompanying title in all of Azgeda.

“Would you like to ride this worthless submissive before I permit her to dress again?” She asked, her lips curving into a wicked smirk as she strode up to her throne chair again, seating herself with a flourish. She didn’t have the former Queen’s height but she had acquired a little of her dramatic manner over the years of her training. 

“I’ve had enough of her cunt. If I may suggest, she should lick up the mess she has made on your floor before she leaves.” Roan murmured as he seated himself next to his sister and smiled down at the proud Echo, her gaze firmly ahead and her chin up despite the fact that they continued to discuss her as if she were merely horseflesh to be mounted for pleasure.

“An excellent suggestion, my dear brother. Echo. Lick up your mess and then crawl out of the room. Once outside, you may dress.” Ontari ordered, laughing as she did so as Echo’s cheeks flushed, just a little, at the absurdity of the order. Echo managed to elegantly slip down to her knees to follow it, however. Such a good little submissive.

“Little better than dogs, these submissives.” Roan murmured quietly.

“I do agree. When I am commander, there shall be no free submissives left. All shall be branded a slave and treated as such, existing on the mercies of their betters.” The young queen affirmed with a nod. 

“Now … how do we exploit these arrogant Skaikru people to destroy Lexa and her allies?” she asked seriously once they were alone again. 

“I have some ideas but first, I want to see how the Conclave plays out. If it goes as I expect then I think my idea will be worthy of your consideration. Until then, we need to keep Echo here. That face, unmarked, is what we need.” Roan replied. The last was a cautious scold and she begrudgingly accepted it. 

**_Anya_**

The Conclave was an annual event in Polis when the leaders of all seven Clans and the Flamekeepers met to discuss trade, alliances and vote on installing, at last, the new Commander. There had been no new Commander in over a decade, as there was no consensus among the people. Consensus was required. The Flame could not be taken by force. It required the consent of all Clans and only then would the Flamekeepers complete the ritual. There were specific requirements to be considered for the position. One needed to be a Natblida, also known as a nightblood, a Dominant of course, and have led one's own Clan for no less than two years. 

Queen Nia had barely consented to the last Commander’s installation and only then because Maia had been an ally and a friend. Upon her untimely end, Azgeda and its allies had the perfect replacement lined up - Ontari. However, no one else was prepared to accept the vicious young woman. She was dismissed on the grounds that she had not led her own Clan. Rumour had it that shortly thereafter, her children, Roan and Ontari, had executed Queen Nia but no one had proof of this treasonous act of matricide. Ontari became the new Queen of Azgeda. She was feared by all, friend or foe.

Anya despised the woman, although she had to admit her tactics were quite brilliant. Ontari was a survivor but Anya believed that Lexa was the superior choice. She had ethics and kindness. Too much kindness in Anya’s opinion, giving her willingness to hear out the Chancellor of Skaikru and their contingent of whining children. 

The General sighed and looked over at Gustus, the Hefa of Boudalankru and a good ally. He was also a friend with a thoughtful disposition and ruled his people well. Each Clan had its own style of design and architecture that had bloomed after Praimfaya, the nuclear event that shook the world and remade it anew. She hated to say it but Boudalankru was her favourite with its wide decks and sturdy foundations. She had spent more time there than she’d like to admit bathing in the bubbling hot springs on Gustus’ mountainside home. Even in snowy weather, the water was just so delightfully warm. 

Anya sighed and looked back at Lexa, drawn away from these fanciful thoughts. Skaikru approached and she stepped forward to strip their weapons from them. They were so heavily armed that even Gustus had to step forward to tug weapons out of sheaths and toss them into a small box. Even their deadly firearms that still sent a shiver down her spine. It was forbidden to touch them by the edict of one of their earliest Commanders and she never had. Fearsome things that ripped through the meat of one’s body the way a knife or an arrow never could.

Finally she returned to Lexa’s side, hovering by her chair as the Queen Indra of Trishanakru and King Gustus of Boudalankru did the same. Lexa’s words were well spoken, as she always was.

“Welcome Chancellor Kane and the people of Skaikru. I am Lexa, Queen of Trikru and contender for the position of Commander. We have brought gifts to exchange with yours.” Lexa waved an imperious hand and three slaves stepped forward, richly garbed, a cloak covering their features as was the way of their people until they were so traded. Each of the Clans had thoughtfully selected someone. 

Indra had brought a mature woman, children grown but had many years left to live. She was a talented healer, who would be able to work with Skaikru as they gained their knowledge of the world once again. Gustus had brought a young woman hungry for adventure who grew up in a farming family. Despite being submissive, she was bossy and authoritative and would not long be intimidated by these people from the Sky. Lexa agreed she was a good choice. Lexa had brought a slave who had been a talented weaver, sold only as his family had fallen on hard times. He knew how to spin and weave sturdy fabrics and could assist Skaikru in this regard. Each slave was thoughtfully considered and despite their status as slaves had consented to the adventure of living among the Skaikru people. It helped that the weaver was quite entranced by Gustus’ young farmgirl and if they chose to breed them together, well, he would not object. Overall, they had selected with the intention of casting a good impression and forging a strong alliance.

The one they called Chancellor raised his head and murmured, almost apologetically, “We do not trade our people. We do not believe in it. That is to say, our submissives remain free people and we cannot trade them.”

The warriors around the room looked at one another in consternation. They spoke English well enough to take offence at the Skaikru leader’s words. Before he could continue, a fair haired young woman spoke, “I am sorry. We don’t mean to offend you. It is not something we are prepared to do.”

Anya had to bite her tongue from speaking out of turn. Lexa looked around and then nodded toward the sulky brunette female from whom Gustus had stripped a number of weapons and a tall dark-haired boy with soft curls around his ears, “So you did not bring these people for trade?” 

“What!” The little female flew to her feet, despite the awkwardness of the contraption wrapped around one of her legs. “I am not some slave to be traded off to the likes of him. It’s disgusting. You’re all disgusting.” She pointed at Gustus and raised her chin as the man rose to his feet. 

He looked at the other two leaders and then spoke gruffly, “I did not come to be insulted. I will not trade with them.” He turned on his heel, surrounded quickly by his people and the young slave he had brought for trade. The room seemed significantly emptier with the departure of the large King and his retinue. 

Lexa rose to her feet slowly and regarded Skaikru, all of whom were watching the young Queen with wary eyes in Anya’s opinion. “Boudalankru grows the medicine I know you were seeking. They are no longer part of this negotiation.”

Another woman spoke up hastily. She was an attractive older woman with a grave expression and introduced herself quickly, “I’m Abby Griffin, the physician who was seeking that medicine. Is there any way we could get him to come back? I am sure we can find something for him that isn’t one of our people. All of our people are important to us, you see. We do not trade them, sell them, or enslave them. They are _our_ people.”

Anya snorted in derision at these words, the insult buried within as if these people thought they were too simple to understand, and then caught a slicing look from Lexa. Lexa then shook her head. “No.” Then her gaze flipped to the one they called their leader, “Do you usually let your people do your speaking for you, Chancellor? I understood you are their leader but it seems your people are out of practice with the concept of negotiating. You ask for much, speak sharply and without thought, and then offer nothing but offence. It is you who arrived on our lands and sought to make a home for your people. If you want a peaceful home then I suggest you start figuring out the finer principles of negotiation and …” she paused for a moment before looking at the Skaikru in attendance before continuing, “I would strongly suggest not let your people speak for you.” 

She saw the look the older man gave the petite brunette and the exasperation as he glanced at the woman on his other side. This man had no idea how to instill good manners in the submissives of his people. It was embarrassing in Anya’s opinion. Her own people would never behave in this manner.

Queen Indra of Trishana could hold her tongue no longer. She rose to her feet and looked them over sharply. “Having met Octavia of Skaikru already, I was hopeful for today. But it seems my hopes were misplaced. We will take our leave and have no further interest in trading food or textiles with Skaikru. Your people are not welcome on my lands. They will be subject to our laws should they try.”

The older Skaikru woman, Abby Griffin, blurted out, “So you’ll execute them if they hunt on your lands?” She was clearly aghast at the suggestion, seeming to forget that Indra already knew some of the tales of their people. 

“No, we do not execute for petty crimes like your people. We will seize them. Submissives may be retained as slaves or put to auction. Dominants will be put to auction immediately, as is the right of my people. Stay out of our territory for we are not as generous as Trikru. We keep what we find.” The older woman then nodded in respect at Queen Lexa and Anya before departing as well, her people trailing after her. 

So it was, only the crowd that was Skaikru, a disorganized mess as far as she could tell. Anya sighed as Lexa’s back straightened. 

“I confess I have never seen my allies so quickly and easily offended. Quite a talent.” Then she sighed and looked at the petite blonde who had the grace to look embarrassed. She crossed the negotiation floor and Anya watched as the two stepped to the side to engage in private conversation. Anya continued to watch this group suspiciously. 

Skaikru had been a catalyst for change, of that there was no doubt. They had splintered a little already. Rumour had it a selection of their group had disappeared into the Dead Zone months ago to seek a path to the City of Light. Their actions had been foolish and haphazard. They seemed to have no understanding of the protocols or politics that occurred between the Clans, as if they were children waiting to be scolded by their parents from the sky. Skaikru failed to understand that they were not needed by the Clans but if Skaikru wanted to survive, they needed to learn how to survive among them.

Otherwise the Clans would swallow them up and leave nothing but the bones to be fought over. Anya’s gaze raked over a few of the pretty creatures on the other side of the room and noted that some of them had rather fine bones indeed. 

**_Roan_**

Roan sat idly and watched as the Skaikru dispersed from the negotiation tent with Trikru and Queen Lexa’s allies. Hefa Gustus left first. The man was a rock and to offend him into leaving first meant they must have pricked his sense of pride that was as large as the man himself. Idiots. Of course, it was also exactly what he was hoping for and he suspected, his way in.

He circled around to come to walk past the petite blonde known as Clarke Griffin. “So no luck making peace with Trikru?” he queried with a soft chuckle, “I’m sorry to hear it. Seriously. They are a difficult people, I know.” he murmured quietly. “They do not treat their people right.”

“How don’t they understand that enslaving your submissives is wrong?” Clarke gasped out, rubbing the back of her neck, where her own designation mark was hidden under the soft fall of her bright hair. Roan nodded sagely. Of course, Trikru and its allies did not enslave every submissive but it was a misunderstanding that he was delighted to encourage. He wanted any potential union to dissolve. The sooner Skaikru was overrun, preferably after taking out many of the Trikru and allied warriors, the better.

“I agree. I speak daily of my desire to change this terrible tradition with my sister. Some things do change in time. But unfortunately Skaikru does not have the privilege of time. Will you survive until the Harvest trades without assistance and hunting grounds? I’m sure we could spare a little but I cannot afford to starve my people to save yours.” Roan murmured.

Clarke’s head shot up and she frowned, “I wasn’t asking you too. I was just asking for some respect and not to have to trade my friends for food or medicine from … these … people.” 

Roan had stumbled there a little as he hadn’t meant to cause offence but it was interesting to see this fiery girl protest so ferociously. He wondered how long she would last with Ontari as her playmate. Or him? What fun that would be. Especially if she brought along the pretty tall boy with floppy curls for extra playtime. He wondered how long until she was mewling on her knees asking for his thick cock for some relief. It was a pleasant image that soothed his own ruffled temper.

“We are all people Clarke and we all have people to protect.” He scolded lightly, just wanting to see that flush of pink to her cheeks. “I respect your desire to protect your people. I hope you find your way. Good luck to you.” He had only wanted to test the waters and nudge open the door. It seemed his plan might have the legs he needed for it to rise to the fore. Once it did, the King of Boudalankru would be dead, the alliance weakened as Azgeda swept through those valuable lands and claimed them under Queen Ontari’s dominion.

**_Gaia_**

Elegant despite her considerable youth, the Flamekeeper and Apprentice Archivist stood next to her mentor, Flamekeeper Titus, as they surveyed Polis from atop the temple walls. The haphazard cobblestone streets wound around the buildings, all of which drew you to the Tower. It was without a Commander, left vacant except for the staff dedicated to its maintenance.

“Will we see it filled again in my lifetime?” Titus mused aloud.

“I certainly hope so, Master Flamekeeper. A Commander would be a boon to us all in these trying times.” Gaia returned philosophically. Her energy was low and she knew she would need to slake her Dominant urges soon to restore her sense of well-being. Such a burden, the roles forced upon them by biology and circumstance. She knew Titus viewed these as fate so she kept these thoughts to herself.

He turned and fixed her with a harsh glare, such that she felt her shoulders straighten and her chin lift, despite her efforts to remain humble. Titus growled, “And you need to stay away from that _freikdreina_. He is not for the likes of you. You are a Flamekeeper and if you wish to keep your position with us, you must act with more decorum than to slake your needs with one of them.”

Her jaw tightened and her gaze met his, unwavering in the face of his disdain. “I surely do not know what you may be referring to, Master Flamekeeper. Perhaps I should take my leave so you may rest. It appears you are in need of it.” Her words were dipped in ice and delivered with a crisp nod. “I’ll bid you good day.” 

How dare he speak of Otan in that manner? The worthless old crone had no right and he was lucky she had forsworn the violence of her mother’s people or he’d have a blade protruding from his narrow chest at this very moment. That was another task for her day, she thought as she made her way down the stairs, to meet with her mother while she was still in Polis. There was and would always be a distance between them. Her mother sought an heir for her throne but as much as she admired her mother for the way she led her people, Gaia had known her feet were meant to walk a different path.

She turned just in time and smiled to see the older woman approach. “My timing is ideal I see. It is good to see you, Queen Indra. Mother.” She murmured quietly. 

“The pleasure is mine, daughter.” Indra replied with a nod. They weren’t the type to offer hugs or other forms of physical affection but Gaia knew her mother loved her, despite the differences between them.

“Did the negotiations progress well?” She asked with genuine curiosity. The Archivist in her craved information and knowledge. 

“Alas they did not progress at all. The first thing they did was offend Hefa Gustus.” Indra replied with a shake of her head.

“Gustus? He is the least easily pricked of all of you. I know for I tried many times as a girl to get him to even growl at me but no matter what I said, he mostly found me amusing.” Gaia was astonished by this particular news. Her mother could be a bear but Gustus for all his size was actually a gentle soul for such a fearsome warrior.

“Indeed. Come I will tell you the tale while we dine.” Indra offered and Gaia beamed in response, despite herself, “I am too curious now to turn down this offer.”

“I am wily when it comes to my only child.” Indra retorted gravely and then laughed. Gaia laughed with her for there was much truth in these words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to DialedIn for her ongoing support and friendship despite the fact that I continue to throw darker and darker works at her and asking what she thinks.


	3. losses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Azgeda makes plans for winter & John Murphy gets let down (again)

**_Roan_ **

Ontari’s patience was growing thin but Roan continued to caution her against acting hastily. She paced the floors, a knife twisting and turning in her hand as she thought. It was a habit of hers of which even Nia could not break her, no matter how many times she had beat the girl. Now as an adult, without Nia’s presence, she did it more frequently. To be honest, she made him nervous when she behaved in this impatient manner. If she wanted to rule as Commander, it was his belief that she needed to learn to allow a plan to come together rather than rush it to a premature conclusion.

Roan was convinced that they had the time and if they were careful, everything they would fall into place. The people from the Sky were already causing the _right_ kind of problems to ruffle more than a few feathers. They just needed these arrogant fools to be desperate enough to allow the perfect opportunity to tip into Azgeda’s lap and as such be met with tender gratitude rather than defiance when they removed the problem. If they played it just right, by the time the end came, every Clan would be grateful as Azgeda wiped out Arkadia and divided the spoils among the victors. Of course, Azgeda would claim the best portions for themselves, as was their right. 

To calm his volatile sister, Roan encouraged her to pack up and travel to the slave auctions in Polis to pick up a new pretty creature or two to break over the winter. It would be the last set of auctions before everyone tended to remain close to home due to the inclimate weather. He knew how bored she got over the long, cold nights ahead and last year they had lost three good staff to her boredom. It was best to keep her hands off trained staff and on worthless but pretty things that were not significant to the running of the Manor. 

With Ontari upstairs getting herself arranged for her journey to Polis, Roan elected to inspect some construction that was intended to improve food storage. He mounted his favourite horse and began to ride out. However, before he could arrive at the village, a messenger intercepted him on the road. The rider was seeking the Haihefa and Roan was instantly intrigued by the messenger boldly seeking him out and inquired as to the events that had brought him here. The news startled Roan. There was an ongoing incursion along their southern border and to Roan’s amazement, the aggressor was none other than Skaikru. One of their vehicles had crossed the border into their territory, in clear violation of posted signage to indicate as much. Roan wheeled his horse around and made haste. Skaikru may have some particularly tricky weapons but he felt that he and his warriors could take advantage of their knowledge of the terrain and the fact that those weapons frequently required reloading. Sheer numbers favoured Azgeda. 

It appeared that Skaikru was making an attempt to rescue their people and the portions of their sky station that had, so unceremoniously and without invitation, landed in Azgeda territory. Roan had been waiting for the messenger carrying the request for entry for weeks. He was surprised that it had not come yet as such a request would impose an obligation on Azgeda to permit entry into their territory and retrieve their people and property. It was one of their oldest treaties and honoured by all Clans. The fine would be modest given that the arrival was clearly unintentional, although he was intending to ask for a premium due to the damage to the local farmer’s fields due to the debris. Instead, Skaikru disregarded their territorial rights and entered without permission.

Roan arrived in time for the battle to begin in earnest and it was no easy feat. Skaikru’s weapons sent a shiver through the hardiest warrior, and he was no exception. By the time the dust settled and the quiet restored, the majority of the Skaikru invaders were either dead or had escaped back over the border. Most, but not all, and Roan was pleased to have new additions for their dungeons. While Azgeda had lost far too many of their own people, there were now three young and evidently healthy members of Skaikru before him. As these Skaikru fools were found on their territory, without right of entry or negotiated permit to cross, they were forfeit and Azgeda was not required, by right of treaty, to turn them over to their Clan. Azgeda owed them and their people nothing. Sometimes these fools from the Sky made it all too easy. 

Roan strolled the line of prisoners. The three of them were on their knees before the Prince of Azgeda. A petite female with fair hair and defiant expression was paired with two males. One of the males was a handsome but stockier male of darker complexion and a full mouth. Roan stopped in front of the third and peered at him for a moment, trying to place him. “I have seen your face before.” He murmured, staring into the defiant gaze of a tall young male with dark hair and eyes. “You know Clarke Griffin, do you not?” 

The boy’s eyes flashed to his, widening in recognition, before looking down and away again. Roan reached forward and the boy flinched away as he prodded at his marking at the nape of his neck. Only Skaikru made such efforts to hide what they were, as if they were ashamed of their designations. It seemed like weakness to Roan to feel such peculiar shame about what was intrinsically a part of one’s essence. He had heard that while living on their sky station, Skaikru would medicate away their natural urges with something called a _suppressant_ that was filtered into their water or air or something to that effect. Roan had never heard such nonsense before and cut out the tongue of the fool who would tell such tall tales. Later he wondered if that story-teller had imparted a truth. He should probably feel bad about executing that man’s family if that were the case, but Roan rarely wasted time on emotions such as guilt. 

He tugged up the shorter, stockier male to his feet with a rough hand wrapped around his arm. The female leapt to her feet and was already standing tall, watching him with icy eyes. Good. It was always more fun when they didn’t just cower. He liked to earn their fear. So two submissives and a single Dominant made up his collection of newly captured slaves. All were physically appealing at least and would have fetched a good price at the auction. However, why would they deprive themselves of the fun? This was a promising start to many dull nights ahead. It also ensured that Ontari was going to have a good winter and he would not have to fear for the staff. An excellent turn of events overall.

“What are you going to do with us?” The young Dominant’s words and tone were demanding and Roan had to refrain from shattering the boy’s jaw for daring to speak to him in such a manner. Patience, he reminded himself as his smile slowly warmed his features while leaving his eyes as cold as the ground beneath their feet. He didn’t bother answering the question but rather waited until the prisoner wagon rolled up. It was a spiky and miserable affair, designed to make the occupants of the cage as uncomfortable as possible. The driver climbed down and tugged open the gates. 

Roan ordered gruffly, “In. Now.” To his surprise, the girl bolted, heading for the deep wood. It was rather impressive really. His warriors let her get a few paces into the woods before one of his men gave chase, caught her and carried her unceremoniously over to the wagon, applying harsh swats to the girl’s ass as she screamed and protested. The guard tossed her inside so roughly that the bars rang as her head struck the hard metal. She slumped, dazed, to the bottom of the wagon and lay there. The other prisoners followed with little grace, concerned it seemed for their compatriot. Perhaps if she lived past the journey she would make a good playmate. As long as there was at least one of them for them to enjoy, then all would be well. 

The journey to the Manor was slow as the weather shifted and the skies opened, icy rain pouring over the travellers - prisoners and warriors alike. By the time the moon was high, they entered the courtyard of the Queen’s Manor. It was the only home Roan had ever known and he still loved it. The Prince turned his horse over to the stable lads and told them to care for her well. She was a good animal. Finally, after all of his people and their mounts were cared for, he opened the prisoner’s cage and led the Skaikru prisoners into the depths of the Manor. 

Roan could hear their teeth chatter and their bones rattle as the cold had buried itself into their cores. Lined up against the wall, their clothing was roughly stripped away by the guards who had little respect for the dignity and modesty of the Skaikru slaves. A hose pouring lukewarm water was turned on their new acquisitions as the guards worked to scrub away the filth of their travels. Roan watched the procession in amusement as they whined, whimpered or angrily protested at the rough handling. The slaves were roughly dried and each given a singlet top with no sleeves and a pair of lightweight trousers to wear. They were far from covered but they were almost warm after the chill of the trip. The dungeon itself was well-heated. After all, Ontari did not wish to be cold when she played her little games. Frankly Roan saw nothing appealing in freezing his balls off just to fuck a toy. 

Only then were Azgeda’s newfound acquisitions placed into the row of cells along the far wall of the dungeon. It was a well appointed space. Each cell had a single cot and a bucket in the corner, and nothing else. Ontari had worked through their last plaything a week ago and the cells had been well scrubbed, although one could never clean hard enough to completely sweep the room free of the stench of terror and the coppery sweetness of spilled blood within these silent walls. There was a washing room and a healer’s ward on this level. On this floor was also a large playroom where many a slave lost their dignity, innocence, or life, depending on how fragile they were or had become during their stay at the Azgeda Queen’s Manor. 

When Roan was finally satisfied that the prisoners were in place and looking dazed and sufficiently afraid, the Prince headed for his sister’s bedchamber. He wanted to present his gifts before her departure and see if she could take the measure of the Skairkru people she met while in Polis. He walked up the stairs and found his sister contemplating between a trio of handsome furs. “Pack all three and come with me.” he stated bluntly. 

Ontari scoffed and didn’t raise her head from her consideration of her options. “I’m not interested in some slave you managed to impregnate, Roan. I have said before and I will say it again, if it is not a Natblida, do not bother me with your whelps.” 

Roan sighed and shook his head. “You will like this, sister. Trust me.” He saw her head slowly raise and she glanced over her shoulder at him. She tossed away the fur in her hand and it missed the bed, sliding off and falling to the floor in an indignant heap. A slave rushed to straighten it and lay it out neatly once again. Ontari neither noticed nor cared. Service was to be expected and only appreciated in its absence. It was, after all, her due. Ontari walked over with contemplative eyes and a ready smile for her adoptive sibling. 

“Do not disappoint me. You know how I loathe disappointment.” she cautioned as she gestured for him to lead the way. 

**_Echo_**

Echo had a terrible feeling, the kind she had long learned to appreciate in her years of service in the Court of the Queen of Azgeda. Her hand pressed to her swollen breast, still sore from the Queen’s attentions. She did her best not to catch Ontari’s interest but the woman had played with her often enough over the years. She knew her reserve, the one she had cultivated to survive, had unfortunately resulted in a corresponding urge within the Queen to break her.

She cursed her submissive nature for this weakness. How many times had the woman nudged the blade between Echo’s thighs and forced her to ride the hilt to her own release, terrified that any second the cruel Queen would turn the knife and she would end her life impaled on the vicious woman’s weapon as the heat of her orgasm flowing through her blood? Too many times. Too many times she had to remain stoic and obedient while the Prince or the Queen found one more excuse to lay their hands on her skin for one more game, one more ride of her cunt or ass. How many times had she choked or bled for them? More than she could count. She remained relatively unmarred as she was still useful. Echo strove to stay that way for she knew the minute she was no longer useful, the Queen and the Prince would finish what they had started a thousand times before. No one was left that could or would stay their hands. Any excuse to avoid the Queen’s notice was a good one to the submissive woman but that did not mean she did not know her fate once her service was concluded.

However as Echo peered out the window and watched that wagon roll into the courtyard of the Queen’s Manor, her heart squeezed in terrible premonition. Her instincts had kept her alive innumerable times and she had learned to trust them, even when she wished they were trying to deceive her. Echo’s feet found themselves on the slaves’ staircase, the one neither Ontari nor Roan would ever deign to use, as she made her way down to the lowest floor of the beautiful residence. The floor that Echo loathed but where she knew she needed to be at this moment. She crept along, keeping her steps quiet and listened carefully. Pushing open the door to the dungeon level, she arrived just in time to see the other entrance open. Hastily, she let her door fall mostly closed again. She propped it open just enough to make out the voices and to see some of the events about to unfold, events she was convinced would change something important, even if she wasn’t sure what that was just yet. 

There were three new additions in the cells along the eastern wall. One was a female with light hair and an attractive figure. In the cell next to her was a handsome man of a darker complexion. He had a strong, stockier body and was watching the proceedings cautiously. From this angle she couldn’t make out the third occupant except to know they were also a male. All were from Arkadia, the Skaikru home. She could tell by their manner of speech and their indignation. Anyone from this area would not waste time on such an emotion but would rather have elected to plead for some form of mercy. 

Echo drew a breath sharply and then held it as she could hear Ontari clap her hands like an excited child. This was the most terrifying version of Ontari - the happy one. The slave swallowed hard and pulled back all the further, flinching despite herself. “For me! Oh Roan!” She exclaimed. Roan’s voice was low and calm, “They attempted to rescue those Skaikru fools who had the nerve to land along our Southern border with Podakru. The locals were enjoying picking them off and we were allowing it of course, until these new ones showed up to cause trouble.” 

Ontari was clearly delighted as she swept back her hair with one hand and grinned at the three occupants. Her voice was warm and gracious as she stated, “Welcome. I am Ontari, the Queen of Azgeda. What is your name?” 

The one Echo could not see well replied, “Bellamy. Bellamy Blake. I’d like to go home. To Arkadia. Please. At least, at least let my people go. They came on my orders, it is my responsibility.” Echo was impressed. It wasn’t grovelling but a gentle plea for mercy for his people. That was sweet. It wouldn’t work but it always impressed her when they tried to plead for their own people. “So these are your people? What are their names?” Ontari’s voice was soft, almost inviting, and Echo found herself praying that the man wasn’t falling for it. Unfortunately, he replied eagerly and with passion, as if he had found some hope in Ontari’s response. Stupid, stupid man. 

“This is Nathan Miller and she is Harper McIntyre. Please, just let them go and I’ll do whatever you want. You could sell me. There is an auction coming up, we heard about it. Please. Just sell me and let them go.” The man called Bellamy said. Echo rolled her eyes in her shadowed hiding spot. Skaikru really were idiots. Never give Ontari information! Whatever weakness or kindness a person possessed, she would use it to destroy them all the further. 

Ontari shifted and Echo drew back further, a compulsive reaction. She could see nothing now but she could hear the rapture in Ontari’s voice and it sent a chill down Echo’s spine. That tone she recognized and it sent terror into her belly, such that she wasn’t even sure she was breathing any more. These foolish people - Echo pitied them but not enough to try to save them. No, she had enough with trying to keep herself out of Ontari’s sight. 

“Why would I ever do that? I haven’t had any fun with you, yet?” Ontari’s voice lifted as if this question was quite sincere and it was followed by a soft laugh. “I shall go to these auctions in Polis though. Rumour has it there may be more Skaikru for sale. I hope to build quite the little collection for myself. So many fun new pets to play with will prevent me from getting bored over the winter.” Roan laughed in wicked agreement with his sister and Echo hated that his voice made her feel more than mere loathing but something akin to lust. She hated him with every fibre of her being. He had robbed her of so much, her very innocence had been stolen on his cock for his mother’s entertainment, and yet her body had been trained to respond to his desires. She wondered what it would be like to have a gentle Dominant to lay with but honestly it was beyond her imagination. True kindness was just too far from her realm of experience. There was nothing akin to gentle in the Court of the Azgeda Queen. 

**_Emori_**

Emori cursed herself a thousand times for bringing John too close to the outskirts of Polis. She knew that his status as Skaikru, even an outcast member, made him too appealing to the slavers that worked in and around the old City, hoping to catch runaways and dreamers. She had wanted to see her brother, Otan, whom she knew was lingering around the City to catch the eye of a certain Flamekeeper. Personally she thought Otan was the fool for thinking that a Flamekeeper of all people would be inclined to claim a _freikdreina_ submissive. The mutants were discouraged from claiming or being claimed by all Clans.

She had met John under the desert skies of the Dead Zone. He and his group of outcasts from Arkadia, the Skaikru community, were looking for the City of Light and the freedom therein. She knew the way, having spent many years gathering tech for the Sect that had an obsession for it within the walls of the great City. There were pieces of it all over the Dead Zone if you knew where to look. Of course she did. There were even new ones that had fallen from the Sky along with her John’s people. It was quite lucrative. When she and Otan managed to free themselves from Baylis and flee his control, she had found the Dead Zone to be a rather favourable sector. Few ventured there, making it a wild space with no rules but her own. It was intoxicating for a time. 

She hadn’t meant to fall in love with another submissive with ocean blue eyes and a crooked smile. When they first met, she had robbed him and his people, holding a knife to his pretty throat. Still, unable to resist the boy, the first in her life not to flinch when she showed him her hand, she had told him which way to travel to reach his destination. Emori had hoped that he would survive. To her surprise, he did and when she met him again, weeks later and he had the chance for vengeance, instead he saved her life from another angry victim of her thievery. How did one resist a boy who saved your life? Although the rest of his people were content exploring the City of Light, the boy didn’t want to stay. So she invited him to travel with her. 

With that crooked smile, he agreed. It was absurd and if she were a sensible submissive with a chance of a normal life, she would never have courted such absurdity. However, as she was unlikely to ever be claimed, did it matter that she loved another submissive? They found others to slake their needs when they became too strong to ignore. A pretty pair was many a Dominant’s kink, especially if for just a night or two, rather than a lifetime obligation. More than once they had sold their paired submission for a good meal and a few nights in a soft bed. 

Still, when she laid her head on his shoulder, listened to his stories and heard that steady heartbeat, she knew she was home. He was her home. Now, due to her own poor decisions, he had been stolen from her. Worst of all, they were not initially looking for him. They were looking for _her_. She had hidden but John had not been swift enough and when she caught his eye, he shook his head, indicating she was to stay out of sight. So she did. Only when they realized how poorly he spoke their language did their expressions change. They had found a prize - Skaikru. 

Her precious John was unceremoniously carted off to the Auction House, where he would join the offerings available at the final large auction of the year. The Auction House would take their cut of course but the brigands who hunted and executed the _freikdreina_ would have a substantial number of dolas in their pocket once it was made clear that her John was Skaikru. That Clan had stirred up much ill-feeling and people longed to put some of them in their place. 

Emori knew she needed to get a message to Skaikru so they could come and save one of their own. Surely they wouldn’t allow him to be sold off to their enemies. Her John had a troubled history with his own people but they were still his people, weren’t they? 

**_Ontari_**

It was the last Auction of significance before the winter set in and as such, all of the Clan leaders were in the City of Polis. It was considered an occasion to affirm alliances and complete bargains made at the Conclave earlier in the year. As always, there was a mandate of peace on all people whenever they were within the walls of the great City. Weapons were not permitted and no knives of length beyond those required for food preparation. To breach this caveat bore such a harsh penalty that even Ontari was not prepared to run such a risk. Of course, if she had it her way, this place would not be reserved for free citizens, Flamekeepers and Archivists. No, it would be her City, remade in the image of Azgeda. A glorious testament to the Commander, she thought, as her gaze ran over the Tower that she was confident would one day be her home.

The day had already proven frustrating. Ontari had tried once again to make a bargain with the giant idiot known as the King of Boudalankru. While her interests were primarily on her own pleasure and ambitions, she did not ignore the needs of her people. The medicine grown and refined by this Clan was vital and he rigidly controlled its distribution as one of their more profitable goods. While it amused her that Skaikru was equally denied, it angered her to no end that he would not bargain with Azgeda. She was prepared to offer fine slaves and good dola for these necessities, so sparing they were hard to acquire from any other source. 

Still, Hefa Gustus denied her all but the barest courtesies. She loathed him and, begrudgingly, respected him. So much so that she knew to be successful in her ambitions that she needed him to die. The facts were clear. If Trishanakru was Lexa’s shield and trough then Boudalankru was her spine and armour. Neither of which Ontari could allow as both of their current Leaders had too much integrity to make a bargain with her and as such, they needed to be eliminated. 

Ontari sighed and settled into her chair on the raised dias assigned to the Ice Nation. Each leader had one, set some distance from one another, and all directed to the stage where each of the prospective slaves were dragged out and into the light, paraded, displayed and then auctioned. There was seating aplenty for others as the acquisition of slaves was available to any Dominant with dola to spend or goods to trade. She was amused to note that the Skaikru were out in force and watching the stage so intently. Did they have someone they wished to acquire? Perhaps the darling creatures which were currently awaiting her attention? The poor dears, doomed to be disappointed, she thought with a little smile of victorious pleasure. 

Briefly she wondered what regulations Skaikru would impose on their slaves, since each Clan had their own and they varied greatly. Sangedakru was like Azgeda in that there were no protections offered or imposed. Each Owner was free to do whatever they wished with their slaves up to and including the point of death. The others had varying degrees of protection. Floukru was the least inclined to have slaves and tended to allow them to work toward freedom. Further, no abuse including breeding (a shocking caveat in Ontari’s opinion) was permitted. Ontari, ever the cynic, felt this was just Luna’s appeasement of the nearby City of Light. If Floukru’s slaves could not work toward the restoration of status then the Clan’s slaves would escape continually to the only community that banned all slavery. The others had greater protections but Ontari had little interest in the particulars, primarily viewing such laxity as weakness on behalf of those leaders. A slave was a thing to enjoy, work, use and discard. 

Ontari had brought a few to sell, mostly those she believed too weak to survive in Azgeda but still pretty enough to sell well, and she hoped to replace them with sturdier pets for the long winter ahead. In addition, she had heard rumours that there were more Skaikru for sale and it appeared given their presence here today that these whispers may hold some truth. Admittedly, they might just be hoping for her current prisoners but she supposed time would tell. Ontari was well aware that she had trained her guards and household members to savour a certain kind of depravity. If she didn’t feed the beasts she had created, they might take it out on those she didn’t want touched just yet, such as that irritatingly useful submissive, Echo. 

Roan had remained behind at the Manor and as such, she was surrounded by no one worthy of her conversation so she sat in silence as she waited for the first offerings to come out. She turned over the problem of the medicine she needed from Boudalan in her mind and cursed the obstinate ways of Hefa Gustus. Then the auction began and her interest was caught. She straightened and watched as one after the other, the stable of pretty things were drawn out and displayed for the audience’s consideration. By mid-way through the auction she had acquired two fertile submissive females and one Dominant female that she thought may be useful for Roan’s warriors. She had a ruthless edge and was sold out of her Clan for attacking a Dominant male. Then _he_ was pulled out. Every line in his body was reluctant. Most had reached a certain degree of resignation at this point but not this male. Pretty blue eyes, a sharp nose but the rest of his features were quite soft and appealing with a full mouth and cheekbones that she frankly envied. Skaikru, she noted, as he had no tattoos or markings to indicate he was one of the other Clans. The pretty boy looked utterly mortified as he was stripped. Not a bad cock, she noted as he was pushed this way and that, forced to display himself for the audience. 

His gaze seemed firmly fixed on the leaders from Skaikru. Ontari glanced over to see several individuals standing up now and watching the stage. Interestingly, the petite and annoying blonde named Blark, Marke or something was there. She was an irritant as far as Ontari could tell and she had no patience for a submissive with that many opinions. Submissives should be seen and heard only upon request. Lexa seemed vaguely fond of her but Ontari, for the life of her, could not understand the appeal. 

As the bidding began however, Skaikru’s paddles did not lift. Not a single Skaikru Dominant made an offer. _Oh well now_. That was interesting. She straightened again and then glanced around. The other leaders had noted this lack of interest as well. The Skaikru Chancellor and his unruly people had bleated on and on about how their people were never sold, that they did everything for their people, how their people were precious _… blah blah blah …_ barf. Honestly, even Ontari was aware that most leaders cared about their people. Even she cared about the people of Azgeda as an abstract whole. This “each individual mattered” nonsense was downright obnoxious. 

Also, it was apparently a lie. 

She lifted her paddle when she saw the Boudalakru leader do the same. Oh to all the hells, no, Gustus had enraged her once too often lately with his stubborn nature and unwillingness to barter the medicines her people needed. The Hefa tried but in the end, Ontari gleefully snapped up the prize. Skaikru was a flurry of muttering and conversation but Gustus looked only vaguely irritated. As such, she was less satisfied. He should be much more bothered by her victory. Still, as the boy was carted off the stage, his furious gaze faded to a grim stare. Her spirits lifted when she noted that there was no whining, temper tantrum or weeping by this young man, her newest slave. Instead, he looked resolute and absolutely livid. 

This was going to be such fun! 


	4. terrible choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_In which Ontari and Roan have their kind of fun and Emori shows her teeth_ **
> 
> Chapter contains explicit sexual assault & abuse. Please heed the trigger warnings. Do not read if this would be triggering for you.

**_Ontari_ **

Lifting one hand, Ontari smoothed back Bellamy’s curls, tucking them behind one ear as she whispered the words. “It is really quite simple. You do this or all four of my guards …” She nodded to the opposite wall where four burly warriors waited in stoic silence. Ontari didn’t bother to finish the sentence. The slave understood, even if he wished he did not. None of her guards looked as though they objected to their Queen’s demands. If anything, they looked quite eager for Bellamy’s continued refusal and the opportunity to complete the assigned task.

“Please,” he whispered, trying to meet her eyes before looking away again, “she’s my friend.” 

It was so cute when her pets tried to cling to some sort of morality or connection, as if that had any meaning any longer. It was actually quite adorable. Harper was already waiting, wearing a simple slip dress with nothing beneath. So far her skin was unmarked. She had allowed her slaves to recover from their journey to this point. They were rested and well-fed as could be under the current circumstances. To be fair, most of Ontari’s recent efforts had been concentrated on her blue-eyed boy, who remained chained to her bed upstairs. She would get back to him soon enough. 

They were standing outside the playroom where Harper was pacing the floor, unable to hear what Ontari was saying to Bellamy. The girl was not stupid though. She knew something was happening and she didn’t like it. Clearly of these three, the girl was the smart one. Ontari pressed the belt into Bellamy’s hands and smiled slowly. “You or four. Which do you think your friend would survive better?” 

“How many?” his voice was barely audible and she could hear his desperation. It was intoxicating. 

“Until I am satisfied.” she purred before lightly applying a kiss to his cheek. Turning on her heel, she waited until the guard opened the door and stepped inside. The room was full of furniture but only one chair actually looked comfortable. The padded benches and sturdy racks were nailed into place. Cuffs hung in eager anticipation from the edges of these items of furniture. Ontari seated herself in that single plush chair and draped her feet over one arm as she propped herself up against the other. 

“Begin!” she announced as Bellamy trailed into the room, the belt dangling from one hand. The female whispered his name and stepped toward him before seeming to process the object in his hands. Then she stepped back, shaking her head, her hands rising defensively. 

It was so wonderful when they made it engaging like this - Ontari did so enjoy a good show. Harper tried to rush past Bellamy, heading for the door but the handsome Skaikru boy stepped in front of her and shook his head. 

“No Bellamy. Please no.” the fair haired slave begged. 

She then threw a punch - A PUNCH. Oh these Skaikru slaves were so much fun. The hit was good and he flinched but as if strengthening his resolve, his arm swooped around the girl’s narrow waist. He lifted her from her feet and carried her over to the large X shaped apparatus. It was a personal favourite of Ontari’s and she was really quite pleased he had selected it without her direction. What a good boy! Her eyes shone brightly in fascination as Bellamy forced one of Harper’s wrist and then the other into the dangling cuffs at the top. 

The girl was pleading. Oh such desperate words, begging him not to do this, as he reached under that long fall of hair and wove his hands into the soft fabric of the slip. Bellamy tugged, rending the fabric from neckline to hem and it fell loosely around her trembling form. He picked up the belt and stared at it for a long minute. Ontari had specifically ordered him not to speak to Harper or beg for mercy on her behalf while in the playroom. Honestly, she was really quite impressed he had managed to hold his tongue. She could see that he wanted to, oh he looked downright desperate to do so but as he glanced up and over at Ontari, she couldn’t resist smiling at him. 

“Proceed Bellamy.” she ordered crisply and he nodded, absorbing the instruction and stealing himself for what was to come. The belt gave a delightful crack as it met with the curve of Harper’s ass. She cried out, her body arcing toward the padded wood and then tried to look over at Bellamy, pleading for him to stop. 

Ontari was far from satisfied so another blow was landed. If the first had been a taste, this strike was a meal, leaving a livid red welt over the fair haired girl’s upper thighs. He worked the belt, sloppily at first but seeming to eventually fall into a rhythm, leaving a series of glorious marks on the girl’s pale skin. The girl had protested, begged and screamed to no avail. She thrashed in her bindings and finally hung limply, whispering for mercy between the pitiful sounds of her weeping. 

The Heda rose to her feet and finally laid her hand on Bellamy’s shoulder. “That’s enough for today. You did well, such a good boy.” She cupped his face and laid a gentle kiss on his lips. Ontari was so entranced she didn’t hear the moment the door opened again and Roan stepped within. 

“Well that’s a good warm up. Who is next?” He queried, making Ontari jump and then laugh in surprise. 

“You can give her a ride, my brother. If it pleases you.” She replied warmly and saw Bellamy’s eyes fly wide. 

“No! You said that if I …” he protested. 

Ontari’s slap was hard enough to have him reeling back and stopping his protest in its tracks. She looked small but she was strong and knew how to deliver a hit. Blood pooled in the corner of his mouth and she smiled at how lovely that bright colour looked next to his flushed cheek. A guard stepped forward and locked a hand around the young Skaikru Dominant’s arm, prepared to haul him from the room. 

“Back to his cell with him. Let my brother enjoy himself with Harper before he lets her have a little rest. I’ll be in my room. I have my own ache to satisfy.” she stated crisply, the pleasure evident in her voice as she watched the guards follow her instructions. 

**_Roan_**

Roan knew exactly where his sister was going. She was quite entranced with her blue-eyed Skaikru boy that she had acquired at auction. The story had been told so often that Roan could practically recite it - how no one from Skaikru had even attempted to purchase him, how Hefa Gustus had tried, and she had snapped him up out from under that ridiculous tree of a man. On and on she went about it. Roan knew that before the new year rang that she would have grown bored of doting on the boy and would have switched to torturing him. She was not known for her long-term affections for anyone, no matter how pretty their eyes may be.

He had other interests. The pretty female known as Harper hung in her restraints. Her ass and thighs were glowing from Bellamy’s attentions. The boy may be a little untrained but he could pack a hit when needed. Roan was begrudgingly impressed. He traced a hand over her fair hair and leaned in. “Shhhhh … there is no need for tears. Any good sub can take a whipping. You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” His words were soft but the tone implied that she was, in fact, not a good girl at all. 

“Let me check you.” he murmured as his fingertips trailed down her spine and over the crest of her swollen, red and bruised bottom to the apex of her thighs. He stroked the folds of her sex as she whimpered and tried to protest but he merely hushed her again. “That’s enough, that’s enough fussing. Hmmm … you are wet, aren’t you? Submissives can’t help themselves, even you independent ones crave a firm hand.” 

Her lips parted as if to protest but he pushed two fingers into her sex and her words were lost to her inarticulate cry. He fucked her on his fingers as he began to unbuckle the cuffs with his other hand. When both limbs were free, she slumped back, he withdrew his hand from her pussy and let her fall to the ground. Boldly, she tried to crawl toward the door, desperately holding on to the shreds of her torn dress. 

Bending low, he caught one small foot and tugged her back. Her hands grasped for purchase on the ground but the stone floor offered nothing and it was futile. The fabric was pulled from her petite frame and left a small puddle on the floor. Bending over her, Roan wrapped a hand in that pretty, bright hair and tugged her toward the chair, allowing her chest to come up to rest on the plush seat cushion. 

“Please. Please no….” she begged, tears pouring anew over her flushed cheeks from swollen eyes. Roan’s low chuckle filled the room, soft but menacing. He saw her shoulders shake as he unzipped his fly and withdrew his thick length. He was already hard. He loved a submissive in the midst of her first breaking. It was so fucking delicious. There was nothing else like it in the world. He sank to his knees behind her and applied a series of sharp spanks over the wounded and abraded flesh of her ass and thighs. 

Harper grasped for the arms of the chair and tried to rise up and push him off of her slight frame. He was quite impressed by her determination. A small hand flew back as he let his cock tease over her wet core. She slapped at him, trying to find something, some way to fight him off but there was no means of escape and he sank his cock into her heat. She cried out again and finally fell forward. Sobs ripped through her chest, shaking the entire chair with their force. He thrust into her and then nearly withdrew entirely before pushing in again. Roan made her feel every centimetre of his cock as he took from her any remaining shred of her dignity that she may have possessed after being beaten by her friend. His sister’s games were always fun but he had to admit, this was a particularly good one. They were breaking Bellamy by making him hurt the people that he had pledged to protect. They were breaking the submissives by having someone they trust break that trust, ostensibly to protect them. The cracks were already forming and they had bets on which one would disintegrate completely first. 

He fucked Harper into the chair, pressing her into it as she bucked and screamed, her voice raw and hoarse. His hips spanked her swollen and tender ass until she gasped and shuddered. This was Roan’s favourite treat - to force an orgasm out of an unwilling participant. She didn’t want it but he would use it to shame her again and again after the fact, obliging her to feel complicit in her degradation. His fingertips plucked at her clit and she begged him to stop and tried to push his hand away. Finally her body shook, her voice issuing a wordless cry as she came. Only when he felt her cunt ripple around his cock did he let go filling her core with ropey splashes of hot cum. He pulled out and gave her ass a final brutal slap before rising to his feet. 

Nodding at the waiting guards, he nudged the girl’s sex with the toe of his shoe before applying a light kick. “Take her to her cell. No washing room breaks until after dinner hour. She can piss in the bucket in the corner if she’s desperate enough. She’s on a strict male diet from now one. All fluids in the form of piss and cum, all food appropriately decorated in cum. If she doesn’t want that, she can starve.” He ordered brusquely and saw the guards grin in anticipation. This was one of their favourite orders. 

“Yes Haihefa.” They agreed as one of them wrapped a hand around Harper’s upper arm and hauled her up to her feet, her entire body still trembling. As she looked up into Roan’s face, he was startled by the defiance in her gaze. Then she spit on him. Everyone gasped. He lifted a hand and slapped her across the face, hard enough to daze the girl. 

“Put her in her cell and bring me the one they call Miller. He can clean up the mess she made on my cock.” Roan ordered angrily.

“Yes Sir.” One guard murmured as he held the door for the other to drag the slave girl from the room. 

**_Echo_**

Echo pushed open the door slowly and peered into the hallway. The guards had disbursed. Roan and Ontari were dealing with a visit from King Malachi of Sangedakru. As she was frequently tasked with spying in his territory, she had been instructed to make herself invisible from him and his people. Of course, Roan had to give her a ‘warm-up session’ as he liked to call it before ordering her to stay hidden. Her ass and thighs felt like they were on fire and there were new bite marks adorning her breasts, although he had been generous enough not to break the skin this time. At least he had kept away from her face. She should be grateful for small mercies, she supposed but it was difficult to muster any sense of appreciation for the man or his version of kindness.

She shifted the tray in her hands and checked again. The guards were gone, off partying with the Sangedakru warriors she suspected. She did not object to their absence. Ontari and Roan scheduled only their most depraved guards to work this floor. She set one mug inside the girl’s cell and placed the wrapped sandwich next to it. The girl didn’t move at first but by the time Echo had moved on to the second cell with the male submissive, she noticed some shifting toward the offered food. 

“Wait … what’s your name?” the male submissive asked quietly. Miller was his name. He had a handsome face and sad eyes, not an uncommon occurrence in the Azgeda Queen’s home. 

“I probably shouldn’t say.” She demurred quietly with a light shake of her head. If they found out that someone was doing anything, even these small things, to make life tolerable for these slaves, they could torture the information from them to find the culprit. There were several young women in the house that looked a bit like her so without a name, they would not know for certain. Echo did not have a reputation for kindness and it was a facet of her personality that she hid carefully. 

The Skaikru boy seemed to understand, nodding slowly as he shifted toward her, resting his back along the bars, his face turned toward her. “My name is Nathan Miller. If I die here, would you find a way to tell my dad for me? His name is David. David Miller. Please.” 

Echo swallowed, wanting desperately to say no, but found herself nodding in the face of such soft words. “Yeah, I can try at least.” She murmured. “Eat the stew in the mug. It’ll help.” The man grimaced a little and she understood why, hot liquids in your mouth became unappealing after a few days of the special ‘diet’ with which they liked to torture submissives. She’d been on it enough times in the past to be familiar. 

“I know.” she murmured empathetically to Nathan, “Still. Try.” she continued as she moved a little further down to the final cell along this wall. The occupant was the Dominant whose face she had not been able to make out only a few weeks ago. Now, he looked haunted. The others looked at what Echo was doing and then shifted back to their bunks, unwilling to make conversation any further, not with him at least it seemed. 

“Hey.” Echo whispered as she pushed the mug through and crouched low. She was unwilling to sit on her bottom after Roan’s earlier treatment but she worried about this one. He had been so earnest and pleading. Now he just looked crushed beneath the boot of the vicious Queen. She set the bread next to it and waited until he crept toward her. He didn’t touch the food though. Instead, he reached for her hand. She almost flinched but then felt that gentle touch and understood that this Dominant was aching for someone not to cower from him. 

“You’ve got to eat. They need you.” she whispered, watching in fascination as he trailed fingertips over her skin. It was so very gentle that she could barely feel the weight of the touch on her skin. 

“Why are you helping us?” he asked but she just shook her head. To be honest, she wasn’t entirely sure. She did try to offer small things to the slaves but usually they would turn on her, point the blame on her to protect themselves in some way. These ones though, they had just seemed so hopeful when they first arrived. She wondered what it would be like to feel that hopeful about anything, even though this time they had been terribly wrong. 

Seeing no answer was forthcoming, the man murmured, “They are using me to hurt them. I can’t … can’t …” Tears formed in his eyes and he let his hand fall away from her. She missed it, the wild and gentle touch. 

“If it wasn’t this, if it wasn’t you, it would be someone else, something else. It’s what they do. They’ve been doing this since they were children. They are very good at it.” Echo offered by way of explanation. This man scoffed at those words, but she could tell it was not because he disagreed with her. 

“May I ask, when you lived in space, is it true that they medicated you all, hid away your designations?” she asked curiously. She had heard this rumour but found it too fanciful to be plausible. Even still, she was curious and given the opportunity she thought she would ask. 

The man nodded, “They always did that though. It wasn’t new. They felt life aboard the stations would cease to function under an authoritarian government unless the needs were suppressed. It was built into the water supply. I didn’t even know it was supposed to feel different. When we landed ….” he started and then stopped. 

“Sorry, you don’t want to hear this.” he muttered and she protested, “I do. Tell me. Please. What did it feel like? When you got to feel the truth of yourself?” 

“It was like …” his gaze drifted upward and she knew he wasn’t seeing the bars and three walls of his cell any longer, he was seeing something else, some memory. She wanted to pluck it from his mind and see it too. 

“Like?” she prompted quietly. 

“When we stepped onto the ground for the first time and took a big breath of air. Real air. I felt lightheaded. Then I saw flowers. Just this incredible riot of colour and water that ran and rising up in white peaks as it roared over the rocks. It was like that. Getting to see everything all at once, breathing for the first time.” he explained. 

“The first flowers after a long winter?” she suggested softly, able to picture his words quite vividly. The smile he offered was beautiful and her heart ached to see it. A gift she captured and would store in her mind because she knew it might be his last if her Queen had her way. 

“Yeah, like that. At first I thought I was going insane. I felt angry, lustful, ridiculous, but after a while, it just fit and I felt good. I’m still not sure about it. They don’t teach us much but we’re figuring it out. I suppose it is different for you?” He asked and she shrugged. 

“I’ll be honest, I have no idea. In Azgeda, your designation as a submissive is seen as fine as long as you are useful. If you cease to be useful, you are disposed of just as readily as food beginning to rot. If I am lucky I’ll get a grave and a marker. Most useless subs are fed to the pigs.” Echo replied with a fatalistic laugh. He looked aghast at her words and she laughed again, “Most Clans are not like my own. I know this. It isn’t this way for all. Just for us. We are strong though. We survive. Better than most I might add. Nia, our former Queen, and Ontari, the Queen you know, may be brutal but we never starve here. We are the largest of the Clans for a reason.” There was pride in her voice despite herself. 

Nodding down at the food, she waited until he picked it up and consumed it all. Only then did she reclaim the container. “Wait?” he asked as she rose to her feet, “Will you come see us again? Please.” Sighing Echo’s brief moment of humour faded away, “I can try but I cannot promise anything. They keep a close watch on this place. I’ll come when I can, bring food when I can, but otherwise, I’m sorry. You are on your own. Do not let them win. Survival is everything in Azgeda. Survivors earn their freedom. If they break you completely, you will die here.” 

Bellamy nodded at her words and glanced over at the others, who were steadfastly not looking in his direction. Echo crouched again, reaching through the bars to touch his cheek. This was unusual for her, although he would have no idea. She never touched people, not if she could avoid it. 

“You cannot win their forgiveness or their friendship again if you let them break you. Stay strong. For yourself and for them.” Echo murmured urgently, tipping her head toward the others. Bellamy nodded again but she read the uncertainty there. He was close to the edge and she wasn’t sure she could prevent him from tumbling over, oh how she wished she could. However, she could barely keep herself alive. She collected the remaining containers from the other two Skaikru captives and headed for the door. There was another to try to sneak food to this night. 

It was understood that whatever brief affection Queen Ontari had for the blue-eyed male currently collared and chained to her bed was starting to wane. Echo liked the other submissive, despite his sarcasm that she did not always understand. He had a fire in him that she recognized. She hoped it would be enough but feared that it would not. 

She feared for all the Skaikru under this roof. 

**_Emori_**

Emori had tried all within her power to save John and she had failed. Daring to brave the streets of Polis, she had found a group from Skaikru and had spoken with a petite woman with a long tail of dark hair and a forthright manner. She advised the other woman of the danger, that John was in the auction and that they had to help him. She offered every dola she had on her person and pledged more if they only gave her a little time. They had to save John. As a submissive with no Clan, she had no means of putting in a bid but a Skaikru Dominant could do so.

The dark-eyed woman who went by the name of Raven agreed that they would help. She didn’t appear to have a warm opinion of Emori’s John but she still indicated that they would help. Emori had been reassured. She pressed into Raven’s hand everything she had and crept back to the shadows of the crowd to watch the auction. Nerves made her belly swoop and she had thought of trying to find Otan, if, for nothing else, his support in these disturbing times. 

Half hidden among the other desert dwellers, she could blend in if no one looked too closely and saw she did not bear Sangedakru’s mark. From her hiding spot, she watched as her poor John was practically dragged onto the stage. He couldn’t see her, she knew that, but oh how she ached to offer him some comfort. They stripped him, poked and prodded him and she could see the burning shame in his eyes at being treated in this manner. He tried to hide it but she could see it as clear as day across his handsome face. 

The auctioneer called for bids and with anticipation she turned to watch Skaikru. A tall, older, dark-haired man had a paddle in his hands with the Skaikru mark upon it. Why were they not bidding? A petite blonde was speaking to him urgently and then they looked back to the stage. However, they did nothing. Emori did not understand and her heart pounded as her breath felt locked in her chest. 

Then Hefa Gustus started to bid and she breathed out in relief. He took good care of his personal slaves. It wasn’t her preference but if John were there, he’d at least be safe. She could live with it and so would John. Then the Azgeda Queen began to bid. Emori felt as if all the air was sucked out of her lungs again as the bidding picked up but then, the worst scenario occurred - the Boudalankru King stopped bidding. _No no no no no no no …_ Emori wasn’t sure she felt anything but the black of despair - the kind she had not felt since she was a child. 

By the time she could process, she sought out the Skaikru people, although she could never find the Raven girl again. She had all of Emori’s currency and they hadn’t even tried! How could they do such a thing? Emori sought out the advice of her brother and his lover, the elegant Gaia. They offered her dola but it was too late. Her man had already been sold away. Neither of them seemed at all surprised by Skaikru’s betrayal and she wished she had sought out their advice earlier. She was a fool, that much was readily apparent. She had chosen to bargain with the wrong people, believing they would not abandon one of their own. 

Emori lay awake for many nights, trying to find another way to rescue John, hiding on the outskirts of Polis for weeks as she sought any bargain that might get her to Azgeda, where she might be able to see or speak to the Queen. Unfortunately, the _freikdreina_ were unwelcome and no one would take the time to bargain with her, especially as most of her dola was now gone as well. She could taste the shame and despair of her failures. 

Otan had come to her late one night, pressing a hot mug of soup into her hand and crouched low, his back against the wall, as she tucked her feet under her and settled against the wall opposite. He met her eyes with his own, steady and true. She and Otan were not blood but aside from John, he was the only person in the world she loved. He was the brother of her heart and together they had survived many hardships. 

“You know what you have to do, Emori. There is only one person who has any ability to bargain with Azgeda.” Otan stated quietly and then nodded toward the mug. She took a large sip and waited for him to finish his thought. He did not offer anything further so she interjected, “I have nothing to offer.” 

“You have the ability to give him the only thing he really wants. Everyone knows what he wants. It is not a secret. You could offer him that.” Otan stated quietly. 

“I could die.” she whispered. 

“Is it worth living without him?” Otan countered quietly. Emori fell silent because she knew he was right. 

“Is that how you feel about Gaia?” she finally asked. Otan nodded and she blew out a soft huff of air, visible in the chill of the late afternoon. 

“I didn’t understand that before.” she confessed but nodded in agreement. Fortunately her brother was a forgiving man and replied quietly, “I know. It is hard to explain it before you feel it.” 

Emori flushed lightly at those words and then offered up, “He’s a submissive too.” 

Otan chuckled, “Well you never did like the easy path, now did you?” Emori laughed for the first time since John was taken. “That is true.” 

Her brother shifted forward and unclasped the fabric that hid the lower half of his face from the world. He pressed a soft kiss to Emori’s forehead and then hid himself again. “Leave at first light. I’ll have food and some supplies ready for you. Travel safely. May we meet again, my sister.” 

As the dawn broke over Polis, she was already on the road with a pack over her shoulders and as many dola as her brother could spare and probably more than that burning a hole into her pocket. She feared that every day of her travels, John would not be alive at the end of it. It had taken several weeks, hampered by icy rain and then falling snow as she made her way along the edge of the roads. 

The snow was up to her knees and she was trudging through it when the Skaikru vehicle roared past and then came to a stop. It waited and she sighed for this was not a conversation she craved. The door opened and a petite brunette climbed out. It was the one called _Raven_ , the one they should call _liar_. 

“Emori? Is that you?” she called out into the stormy weather. Emori wanted to rage and choke this woman into the ground but she had to be sensible. 

She tugged down the fabric that protected her face from the weather as she came to a stop in front of the other woman, “It is. What do _you_ want?” she snarled. Raven sighed and tugged open the door. “Get inside.” 

“No.” Emori snarled and moved to shove past the woman. Raven lunged toward her and Emori turned and swept her off her feet, pinning the Skaikru submissive into the chilly snow, her hands around her throat. She pressed and felt the other woman writhe under her when an arm circled her waist and hauled her up and off, shoving her into the vehicle unceremoniously. Another male reached for the liar and pulled her up to her feet again, coughing and shivering from Emori’s attack. Emori regretted nothing, even if they were to kill her now, she would continue to regret nothing. 

“He’s probably dead now. Because of _you_!” Emori roared and reached for the girl again. A large male body blocked her into her seat and pressed her backward so she could not move. 

“Raven. This is not a good idea.” the man cautioned in an urgent voice. “We do not have time for this.” Raven just shook her head and climbed into the vehicle. It roared to life again as it churned up the snow. It was faster and logically she knew that only aided her but Emori hated them all in this moment. 

“Emori.” the liar started. “I didn’t know that was going to happen. I swear to you. I thought they were going to bid on Murphy.” 

“Wait.” The man at the wheel interjected. He was older with dark curls that had become salted with age. He was still handsome with it, although he was old enough to be the liar’s father. 

“I thought they did bid and were outbid by the Azgeda Queen. That’s what Kane said.” The driver said these words flatly as if they were a statement but Emori heard the question in his voice. 

Emori didn’t wait for any of the Skaikru to offer more of their lying poison. “I don’t know who Kane is but he lies. He lies like her.” She jabbed her hand, still covered in the snow laden mitten, toward Raven. “They didn’t even try. I even gave them all my currency. They took it, they stole from me, and then they didn’t even try!” she shouted and if she hadn’t been half pinned by another man, she would have lunged again for the other submissive female. 

The Raven girl had the grace to look ashamed. “I’m sorry Emori. I am so sorry. I thought they were going to … they … they thought there were others that were going to come up for auction and decided to save their money for them.” 

“Did they? Were they worth John’s life? His mind? His body? Even if he still breathes, she will have done her best to strip all of those things from him. She may be a monster but you are the one who fed my John to her! You are just as bad! You said you would get them to bid on him, that they would save him!” 

“I know!” Raven’s words were a shout. “I’m sorry! I am so sorry.” 

“No you are not! You wanted vengeance. I know the story. It’s all because of your leg. You are a liar. I hope you are happy. I hope you know what you have done. I hope it haunts you every day for the rest of your life. If I find out he is dead, I will come for you. I will make you pay!” Emori’s words were heated but the tears slipping from her eyes betrayed that she was more terrified than truly angry. In her heart, she knew she was responsible for John’s capture. A mistake she would never be able to rectify and it haunted her and would continue to haunt her until she had John in her arms again. 

“I didn’t! I didn’t! I swear Emori. I am so sorry. Please you have to listen to me!” Raven protested, tears trickling down her cheeks as she tried to protest against Emori’s words. 

“No! I will never listen to you again. You are a liar. I may be a thief but at least I only do so to keep myself alive. You lie to destroy others. You are a horrible person and I hate you.” Emori raged and then gasped as the man seated beside her shoved a gag into her mouth and bound it behind her head. 

“Everyone needs to be quiet for a bit.” the man growled as Raven opened her mouth to speak. “One word and I will gag you too. Got it.” He turned to meet Emori’s dark eyes with his own, “I’m just going to leave that in until you are calm. I will not hurt you. I will not allow anyone else to hurt you. Now I want you to be calm and listen to me. Were you going to Boudalan?” 

Emori flashed a hate-filled glance at Raven but nodded, begrudgingly. 

“Good. That’s where we are going too.” he explained calmly but Emori frowned at that piece of information. She may be without a Clan and a nomad but even she knew that Boudalankru did not bargain with Skaikru. He met her eyes and seemed to register the skepticism within, “We’re trying to bargain for his help. She …” he tipped his head to little liar bitch, “offended him last time and he left the negotiation tables. However it is said he is a good man and might accept an apology.” 

Emori felt skeptical and it pleased her to no small end that Raven the liar was going to have to grovel before Hefa Gustus. 

“Now if I take out the gag, will you stop screaming at Raven and tell us why you are going there?” 

It was a reasonable question but Emori had to think about it for several seconds before begrudgingly nodding. She really wanted to keep yelling at the _liar_ but they were shortening days off her trip and she supposed this man didn’t seem too bad. He had a calm manner and didn’t seem any happier with Raven than she was. 

He unwound the gag and sighed, sitting back from her. “I’m sorry about that. I just needed to get everything a bit more quiet in here. Now I’m David Miller. The driver is Jacapo Sinclair and you already know Raven Reyes. The other man sitting up front is Monty Green.” 

Emori couldn’t help but scowl again at the Raven submissive but she nodded an acknowledgement at the others. 

“Now why are you going to Boudalan?” the one called David Miller asked. 

“To bargain with Hefa Gustus. So he’ll go to Azgeda to save John.” Emori explained quietly, her mouth strangely sore from the suddenness of being gagged. She had been gagged before of course, but usually for fun playful times with a Dominant. Not this nonsense. 

“What do you have that he would want?” Raven asked and while it might have been a genuine question, Emori only heard derision in her voice. 

“I know what he _wants_. Everyone knows what _he_ wants. I’m going to offer him that. If he accepts, he will go to Azgeda and get John, _if_ he is still alive.” Emori stated and the weather outside was warmer than her reply to Raven. Ice dripped from her words but at least she was no longer shouting. 

The one called Monty spoke up from the front, “We think Azgeda is holding more of our people. Either that or they are …” he seemed to be unable to finish his words and then he picked up and continued, “Do you think he would bargain with us?” 

“He doesn’t negotiate with Skaikru.” she stated but it was quiet this time for she could feel this man’s pain and it mirrored her own. Whoever he was missing was as important to him as John was to her. 

“Maybe he’ll make an exception.” The older man across from her murmured and she realized he was missing someone important too. Emori found herself sinking back into her seat, her empathy triggered by this man’s evident grief and worry. 

“Maybe?” she offered but she didn’t believe it and she suspected, neither did they. 


	5. old friends and new enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **In which old friends are reintroduced and offers are made and considered**
> 
> _Chapter contains graphic sexual assault scene & characters experiencing extreme trauma. Please heed trigger warnings._

**_Ontari_ **

Ontari turned the knife over in her palm once, gliding her fingertips along the blade before repeating the action. She did this without concentrating on the action itself as the rhythm helped her think. The messengers reported every day of the outbreak of the influenza along her western borders with Trishana. Those across the border were recovering while her people were dying. Not just the very old and the very young as was often the case over a long winter but those who should be in good health - hale and hearty.

Instead they were dying and she knew the reason why. She threw the knife in her hand and it pierced the map on the wall opposite where she stood, the blade buried deeply in the section depicting Boudalan. Hefa Gustus still refused all attempts at negotiation and for that, her people continued to die. It was enraging. Her people were strong and Azgeda was the most populous of the Clans but having to grovel to an idiot in an overgrown body for needed medicines was immensely frustrating.

The messenger cowered and then fled the room as soon as he could as she continued to pace. Ontari clicked her fingers and a slave entered the room. “Ask the Healers from our Eastern villages to spare what they can for the Western ones. See if we can muster a few raiding parties to steal what we need. Not enough to spark a war but just enough to catch the Hefa’s attention. I want him to seek me out to put an end to it. Then we will see what may be negotiated.” she instructed firmly. 

Then her gaze swung around to Roan, “Unless you have a better idea my brother?” she demanded crisply. He rose to his feet and regarded the petite Queen with a hard stare. “No, I wish I could offer an alternative but I have none to speak of.” He tipped his head empathetically. “You seem weary, Ontari. There is nothing more you can do today. Perhaps it is time for you to take some leisure. Go play with one of your toys.” 

Ontari paused at that thought. She did have delightful toys. Obtaining the one called Murphy had been great fun. She had collared him and led him to her travelling carriage, fitted with all the necessary accoutrements for a woman of her status. He objected to the collar but, at the same time, did not seem terribly afraid. Or actually, he did not seem afraid at all. He was angry but intriguingly, not with her. 

She had advised him that she planned to execute all of his people when she became Commander, thinking she would see that frisson of delicious terror in his eyes. Instead he had merely replied that it ‘sucked to be them’. She didn’t even know precisely what that meant but his nonchalance had been shocking to a woman accustomed to being feared. 

So she toyed with having a lover. Oh she still kept him collared and chained, which he did not like, but she was really quite nice to him. They dined together, he read to her, washed her back in the bath or brushed out her hair. The sex was quite nice. Well, to be fair, it was much better than merely nice. It was good, very good. She had enjoyed it, at first. 

However, it was becoming stale and the Dominant kept in storage in her dungeon was keeping his wits about him far better than she would like. She had a little idea and she rather suspected her brother would enjoy it as well. “I have a suggestion.” she murmured, reaching up a hand to straighten Roan’s shirt collar. He smiled knowingly and waited for her explanation. His agreement was instant, as she expected. She tapped the tip of his nose with one long finger, “I’ll see you upstairs shortly. Remember to have him in the blindfold. It’ll add a little spice to the reveal!” 

As Roan set off to collect one of her delicious prizes. Ontari headed up to her suite to prepare herself. As she stepped into the room, her Murphy sat up and looked at her carefully. The book in his hands fell closed as he set it to the side. “My Queen, finished already?” he questioned as he rose to his feet from his half reclined position. She stopped in front of him and turned so he could remove her outer layer and set it gently across the bed. Then she tipped her head up to claim his lips in a tender kiss. 

“Oh, so you just missed me.” He teased, although he had learned not to be too forward with her, he still would make little comments like that. She used to find it charming. It was starting to grate but she still smiled pleasantly at him. She wove one hand around his as she lifted the other to unhook the chain. 

“I think a little playtime is in order, don’t you?” she teased with another soft kiss to his lips. She led him into the playroom attached to her main bedroom and continued to ply him with soft caresses and gentle kisses. She reached her favourite apparatus, in the shape of a large X with a fur lined cuff at the apex of each point. His nerves picked up, she could tell now. He was subtle in his expression but his eyes gave everything away. 

Smiling to herself, she clipped a short chain to his collar and then wedged him into place. Each limb was enclosed in a sturdy cuff, locking him into place. She shortened the chain so he couldn’t look over his shoulder. He could only look straight ahead, directly at her. Finally she registered some genuine fear in those expressive eyes. Clever boy was catching on and it was far too late. 

She held up the gag and smiled. His worry magnified and his eyes could no longer hide the cascade of emotion. Still as she pressed the ball to his lips, he didn’t fight it, likely thinking that his compliance may be rewarded in whatever game she was playing. Once he was gagged, she continued to dust gentle kisses along his forehead and down his cheekbone before nipping at the tip of his nose. 

The door opened and she saw Murphy’s body try to straighten in his restraints. His head tried to turn and she was entertained by his frustration that he was unable to see. She kept her hands cupping his face, keeping her eyes on his. She watched as though those magnificent eyes were a performance in and of themselves. He was confused. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t picked up an implement. If this wasn’t a stress relieving spanking session, then what was it? She could see every question as they flowed in and out of his expression. 

Bellamy had been trained now, trained not to speak, to merely do as instructed. It was sad to see his eyes covered for he also had a delightfully expressive face but she had a finale that she desired. As far as she knew, neither of these slaves was aware the other was in the building. They were about to discover this little snippet of information after a little personal reintroduction. 

Murphy’s eyes flew wide as the other male traced their hands down his body. Roan moved into view so Murphy knew it wasn’t him touching him. He tried to move within the restraints, crying out muffled curses from behind the gag she had pushed between his lips. Ontari lifted her hands, pushing back the dark strands of hair that fell into those bright blue eyes. He tried to shake his head, to look, to protest, something but all of the control was wrested away from him. He would only take what he was given and nothing more. 

“Look at me. I want to see the moment.” She whispered before pressing another kiss to the tip of his nose. He was begging in every look, in every line of his body as the other male pressed his length between his cheeks. Ontari grinned as Murphy screamed behind that gag, his body writhing as the unknown assailant, his old friend, pierced him. The sobs raked his body, now shaking within the restraints, every thrust a sobbing scream behind the gag. His chest heaved and he screamed again, although the sound was sadly muffled. Bellamy was a fairly big boy after all and poor dear Murphy had been wholly unprepared for the moment of their reacquaintance. Ontari stroked his cheeks with gentle hands. Gathered moisture dripped from his lips stretched around the gag as Murphy continued to try to get away, get it to stop, something. She could see everything in those glorious eyes and it delighted her. He was such a pretty, expressive boy. 

Finally Bellamy released. The handsome Dominant shuddered and groaned as his cum filled the other male. He knew better than to move until Roan tugged him back. Roan took Bellamy back a few paces as Ontari removed the gag from between Murphy’s lips, unclasped the cuffs and finally undid the chain holding her pretty pet in place. Murphy collapsed to the floor and scrambled backwards until his back met the wall. His arm curled toward his chest as he sobbed. His blood marred the stone floor with livid colour. 

“I did everything you wanted!” he screamed at Ontari and the Azgeda Queen merely shrugged, “I know and it was fun for a while. But I got bored. Besides, I thought you’d like to see your friend Bellamy again.” Murphy’s eyes flew wildly around the room, landing on his assailant, his blood still dripping from the other man’s cock. Roan tugged away the blindfold and Bellamy blinked at the sudden light. 

“Murphy?” Bellamy whispered and looked down at himself and then over at the other man, “Oh god. Murphy. I’m sorry … I’m so sor…” he could barely get out the words as Roan dragged him from the room, laughing as he did so. Murphy shuddered and flinched back, hard against the wall as Ontari reached for him. 

“You evil bitch.” he muttered, his voice raw from his muffled screaming. His body shivered as he desperately pressed himself against the cool stone. His expressive eyes were filled with hate and fear and she reveled in it. 

“Ah ah ah … I am your Queen. Mind your manners.” Ontari cautioned and then smiled. “I’ve invited a few more of my favourite guards to give you a little more playtime. Just so the lesson sinks in. I’ll come check on you tomorrow. Or sometime this week anyway. Eventually.” She shrugged lightly, more satisfied than she had been in weeks. Soft affection was one thing but emotional devastation fed her soul. 

The door opened and three guards entered. They were not large men but they had a cruel streak and knew just how to draw out the agony while not causing the death of their victim. As such, they were her favourites and handsomely rewarded for these skills. Ontari smiled down at the sobbing man before she headed back to her own quarters. Soon she would hear those delicious screams. Roan was so right. Sometimes she just needed a break to take care of herself. 

_**Gustus**_

It was a quiet morning before they arrived. The winter had fallen heavy this year, blanketing his territory in deep snow. Boudalan communities tended to be built in and around the mountains where the hot springs provided some relief to bones that ached in the bitter cold. Their homes had sturdy foundations, broad decks and pitched roofs to handle the variety of temperatures. Most were three rooms on the main floor and loft spaces built against the home’s chimney stack. These loft rooms were quite warm in the winter, perfect for the younger members of their family to stay toasty and cosy through the long winters.

As Hefa, Gustus had a large residence, with a dozen rooms, set back further from the village, overlooking the valley below where their fields lay in wintery respite. Although they did not have the vast fields of Trishana, they still fed their population and then some. However, their most prized fields grew the wild botanicals that were refined into the medicines that were so often necessary and for which they traded for other necessities and a few luxuries. When he was a young boy, his grandmother, who had lived in the time before Praimfaya had told him that these plants had only sprung to life after these dark days, guiding their people to their new homes and allowing them to rebuild. It seemed like a fanciful tale to him now but he did not doubt the necessity of these refined medicines. 

Gustus heard the engine before he saw it and rose to his feet. He pushed aside the curtains that covered his upstairs window but could see nothing through the driving snow and blustery winds. His home shone with glowing warmth, a beacon in the stormy weather. He heard the pounding on the door and began to make his way down the stairs to see one of his people tug open the door. The uninvited guests practically tumbled through, a cloud of snow and bulky fabrics swathed such that he could not make out these people nor be able to determine whether he could call them friend or foe. 

His people did not fail in their expected hospitality as warm drinks and toweling cloths were provided to the guests as they stripped off and tried to get warm beside the crackling wood stove that radiated heat throughout his home. Gustus only recognized one of them - the insulting girl with the pouty mouth. She kept glancing at him apprehensively but still took large sips of the restorative tea offered. It was made from one of their prized botanicals and would chase away the chills and any hint of illness that these people may have brought with them. A second female, also petite with dark hair and bearing a striking tattoo, stood further from the others as if wanting to distance herself from them. She held the cup between her hands, which remained gloved. She seemed like a wary cat, ready to strike out and flee if necessary but there was something in the determined expression he found intriguing. 

“Apologies for the rude and sudden intrusion. The weather was not so bad when we left.” An older man with a darker complexion and a steady gaze spoke. He had a dignity about him that Gustus felt merited respect. His attention was another matter. 

“Anyone with a good weather eye could have told you it was best to stay close to home. You should only be out if absolutely necessary.” Gustus replied carefully, “Still, I welcome you to my home. I see no reason that anyone from Skaikru would be here. I have already stated I will not trade with you.” 

“Please. We need your help.” Another man spoke this time, he was young with pretty features and floppy dark hair that had melting chunks of snow falling from it. That would be a mess to clean up, he noted with a sigh. Gustus folded his arms around his chest but noted one of his guards, armed, now hovered in the archway. If they attacked him, Gustus knew they would not leave this place alive. 

His broad shoulders lifted in a dismissive shrug, “There was an opportunity given, for which I only received your derision. I have no interest in speaking with anyone from Skaikru. Finish your drinks and warm yourselves. Then you must return the way you came.” 

The first man spoke again, stepping toward him with urgency and something akin to fear in his eyes, “Please … she has my son. I … I … we need to save them.” he pleaded quietly. 

“Who is this she? If Queen Lexa has your son, you must speak with her. She is a just leader and only if …” 

“No!” The man exclaimed, cutting off Gustus’ words. It was a little surprising to the king for people did not speak over him. 

“Ontari.” The youngest spoke again. “Ontari has them.” 

“Them?” Gustus questioned quietly. 

“We think there are at least three of our young people in the Azgeda Queen’s household. My son is one of them.” The man closest to Gustus spoke in fervent tones and despite his disdain for Skaikru, Gustus’ heart ached for this father’s pain. 

“If your son is in Queen Ontari’s care, you should pray to whatever god you may believe in for mercy, for you will find she has none. It is why we stand against her becoming Commander.” Gustus replied quietly, “But I cannot help you.” 

“Wait!” The small female finally spoke. “It was my fault. I, I was the one who was rude to you and I should never have spoken to you that way. I am sorry.” 

Gustus’ softness faded as he recalled her stinging words, “So I am treated to public insult and a private apology. You continue to insult me.” He turned as if to walk away and she hurried after him, her small hand lifting and then falling before she made contact. He scowled down at her and he had to admit she was a brave girl or a very foolish one for she did not retreat. 

“No. No please. I’ll apologize wherever you want. Whenever you want. Just I am sorry. I should never have spoken to you that way. To anyone that way really. I apologize. Sincerely, I do.” she pledged quietly. 

His gaze flicked to the others in the room and then back at the girl, “How were you punished?” 

“What?” She looked surprised at the question. 

“You admitted you were rude. You admitted you should not have spoken the way you did. So how were you disciplined?” he queried. It was a test of her honesty and these people and he had a strong suspicion as to her answer. Her mouth opened and closed again, her gaze flicking away and back up. Gustus shook his head in disdain, “So, you were not. Skaikru approved your behaviour and the only reason for your apology is that even the disgusting people of Boudalan are now useful to you.” 

Her eyes filled with tears, “I didn’t mean to insult your people.” she protested quietly. He shook his head and stepped away from her. 

Gustus looked over at the trio of men, “Your people approved this behaviour and think that you can bring a submissive to me, to apologize and throw a pouty face and sad eyes at me and believe I am so weak as to just give in to your requests. You think very little of me.” He shook his head as the young Dominant surged forward. 

“This isn't about her. She came because you were owed an apology so we brought her to make it. This is about the people we love. She has them. She will kill them.” the young man pleaded, desperation shining from him. 

“Kill them? Killing them would be a leniency she will only grant when she has no further purpose for them. No, it is _living_ with Queen Ontari you should fear. The last survivor of Ontari who crossed our borders and we took in walked off the edge of the mountain path a week later to end the nightmares she could not escape. You should pray that she was so generous as to merely take their lives.” Gustus replied crisply, angered once again that they had let the rude submissive go undisciplined for her behaviour. The Skaikru people stared at him in shock, as if trying to process what he had just said. 

Gustus turned to walk out of the room when the girl standing to the side called out, in Trig, _“I am not Skaikru. I am not with them. Please. I need your help.”_

Gustus turned to look at the girl and slipped into their language to the evident confusion of her travelling companions. _“Who are you? Why do you travel with them?”_

The girl approached and sank to her knees before him in supplication, _“I am Emori. I have no people. No Clan. But I have someone I love and the Queen of Azgeda has him. You saw him. At the Auction. You bid on him. I saw you. You liked him, didn’t you?”_ Her words were desperate and stilted and she was trying to bravely keep her chin up to look at him. Her eyes were full of tears and Gustus found himself feeling empathy for the small female. _“I was travelling here and they invited me to go with them. I had walked for weeks and I needed to get to you. You’re the only one who can save him.”_

_“I cannot help you. I am sorry.”_ Gustus murmured sincerely, dropping into a crouch so the girl could look him in the eye to see that he felt for her pain. _“Stay as long as you need. Through the winter if you like. You will be safe here.”_ The tears she was holding poured down her cheeks but she still tried to get her words out. Gustus rose to his feet and turned to leave. _“I’ll give you a baby.”_ she declared in a near shout as she scrambled after him, awkwardly pulling herself up to her feet. Gustus stopped at that and turned slowly to look at her. She had plucked at his only ache, his only regret. Twice he had gotten his submissive pregnant. Both times mother and child were lost to him. The midwife at the second birth and subsequent death advised him that he was too big a man and a woman could not safely bear his child. In trying to save them both, he lost both. If he intended for there to be a child, he had to choose the child and let the mother die in the effort. It was not something Gustus was prepared to do. Since the day he buried his second son in the arms of his mother, he had selected only lovers who were unable to bear children, usually men. Everyone knew that Gustus craved a child of his own and denied himself such a gift. 

_“I will not have a woman die to give me a child.”_ he replied softly. 

_“I offer this of my own free will. If I die, I accept that. I will give you the child you want if you save John and bring him here. Not to Arkadia, not to Skaikru but here, where you can take care of him. If I die, he can help raise my baby with you after I am gone but he has to live. He has to. He … he is … everything to me.”_ Emori’s words were desperate things, cast into the air and allowed to just hang there. He felt her sincerity but still, he was reluctant. It was too much. He could not ask this of anyone. However, almost against his own will, he found himself considering it. It was madness. Surely he could not sacrifice this girl for his desires. 

The other female approached and plucked at Emori’s arm. “What are you saying? What are you giving him? I’ll do it too. Whatever you want!” she stated passionately. Gustus laughed and shook his head, breaking some tension that had bubbled into the room. 

Emori gave the other woman a look that shocked Gustus in its radiant anger, the tears drying on still flushed cheeks, _“I wouldn’t mind if she died in the birth but I don’t think you’d want a baby with the likes of her. She is a liar. You should not stick your cock in her, it’ll fall off from the poison.”_ Gustus had to bite his lip to refrain from laughing again. 

“What? What did she say? Don’t laugh at me. I’ll do it! Whatever you want. Sex stuff. Submission stuff. You can punish me, as much as you want. Just go get them!” This hotheaded girl was demanding more than she was pleading and Gustus could not have found her demands combined with the desert girl’s anger more entertaining. By all the old gods, what had he allowed in his home! 

“Raven!” The man with dark curls and a lighter complexion spoke in a soft scold. He was a submissive as well and not being well cared for in Gustus’ estimation. There was a neediness to his energy that indicated he had not properly submitted in quite some time. The other two men were Dominants. The two females in the room were also submissive. It was not an unruly combination but none of them seemed well managed in their needs. Perhaps the rumours were true but he simply could not credit them. 

“What!” The girl shouted back at the man who scolded her before turning her attention back to Gustus, “Please. Okay I screwed up. I screwed up really big, okay? I was rude and I promised things that I shouldn’t have and I hurt people I never meant to hurt. I am sorry. I am so sorry. Whatever you want, I will give you. Anything. Please!” 

Gustus glanced at Emori and then back at this Raven, “She offered me a child. An offer I am considering.” Emori brightened visibly and he could only think that this boy must be extraordinary for this girl to risk so much for him. He lifted a brow and nodded toward the Skaikru girl, “Do you wish to continue with your offers?” 

Raven’s jaw fell and her eyes were wide as she seemed unable to grasp his statement completely. “I … I … umm.” Gustus waved a hand, “It is all right. I would never ask that of you. You and your people should go. I will make no bargains with Skaikru and your privileges as visitors are limited and now over. Emori will remain for we have much to discuss and only so much time.” 

**_Echo_**

Echo went to bring food to the Skaikru boy, Murphy, but he was no longer in the Queen’s bedchamber. She found him in the Queen’s personal playroom, his body half hidden behind the heavy drapes as if he was seeking any protection he could find or some tactile comfort. She pushed open the door and looked around, barely able to make him out.

The Queen had been in an excellent mood for the last week or so. Apparently a messenger arrived from Hefa Gustus and she was crediting her clever raids across the borders with drawing his attention. He sought an audience and was prepared to come to her Manor for it. Now the negotiations were for securing his safety and how many guards may accompany him. It was a tedious process and the messengers were riding fresh horses every time to keep apace. 

Fortunately her brilliant mood and busy politicking was keeping her away from her pretty pets, allowing Echo to make a final visit. She was being sent away, another job to do, and they hadn’t wanted Hefa Gustus to see her here. No risks were to be taken. She was being taken to Podakru first and then they would tell her the next assignment. She felt an aching sort of sadness at her departure for the first time since she was a girl for she knew when she finally returned that the dungeons would once again be emptied or stocked with new victims for their Queen’s amusement. 

Echo brushed her hand over the floor and took a seat. Clearing her throat, she waited until the fabric was pushed aside and only years of training to expect horrors prevented her from gasping at the sight of him. All that was recognizable was the shape of his face and the bright blue of his eyes. Everything else was battered and swollen and distorted with it. His breathing was ragged and heavy. She pressed the chunk of bread into his hand for it was soft and he would be able to chew it and swallow, or so she hoped. He didn’t speak, just ate as she helped to press tiny pieces between ravaged lips. He curled toward her, his head coming to rest ever so lightly against her shoulder. She wanted to put her arm around him but there was no place on him that didn’t look like it hurt so she gently carded her fingertips through his dark hair. 

They didn’t speak, not until she rose to leave, and his hand touched hers, holding her hand carefully for a second before falling away. “If …” His voice was ragged and the words were hard to understand between the swollen lips and from his breathless, gravelly voice, “If you meet a girl named Emori, she has a tattoo, here.” He ran a finger over where his cheekbone likely was under the swelling that distorted his face. “Tell her I loved her and it was worth it. She was worth it. Please.” 

Echo just nodded, unable to speak. She didn’t get attached and this was exactly why. She felt like she was bleeding from somewhere deep inside. She got to the door and reached for the handle before finally looking back at him, “Goodbye Murphy.” Then she was gone. Her feet stumbled to the staircase and she ducked inside, tucking herself into the corner of the small dark landing. She willed herself not to cry. She hadn’t cried since she was a child. 

Once she felt herself calm and regained control, she crept down the stairs to the dungeon. As she pushed through, she adjusted the food she had in hand and peered around. The guards were distracted, many of them being used as runners at the moment so the lights were dim and it was cold. She stopped by Miller’s cage first and he crawled out of bed slowly and made his way over. 

They didn’t speak for quite some time and she just let him eat. This time she had brought him cool water in a flask and he greedily swallowed every drop before reluctantly passing it back. “Visitors are coming, yeah?” he asked quietly. 

“Yeah so they are sending me away. I’ll be back though. Try to hold on until then, okay?” she offered up but it was a hollow statement. They both knew they were unlikely to see each other in future. 

“May we meet again.” he whispered. 

She smiled and nodded, “May we meet again.” 

Echo shifted back to the young woman’s cage but she hadn’t moved. She pushed the bread through but couldn’t risk leaving the flask. The girl hadn’t shifted out of the bed during her last two visits either. The despair could only be held off for so long and she feared the fiery and brave girl known as Harper had reached the end of her tether. 

Bellamy, on the other hand, was well over now. He had broken. She still wasn’t sure what had happened. When she tried to speak to him, he had been incoherent. His face had been pressed to the bars, the tears streaming as his shoulders shook with the effort. She had pushed her hands through the bars and tried to hold him but there was only so much she could do. Echo ached for this gentle man who did not belong here. None of these Skaikru people understood the risks they had taken and the opportunities abandoned when they angered the other Clans and then caught the attention of the Azgeda Queen. 

Echo settled against the bars, unable to resist saying goodbye to him, to the unusual Dominant who made her wonder about impossibilities. He moved to sit on the other side and she could feel the warmth of him through the small distance between them. “When do you go?” he asked quietly. 

“Tomorrow. First light. They want me long gone before the Boudalankru King arrives.” she explained and she saw the nod of acknowledgement. There was no emotion and she was sure he had severed them all in the effort to keep breathing. She touched her hand to the bars and he dusted a fingertip along the back of her hand before his touch fell away. 

“When you see flowers after the snow … remember me.” 

“I … is there anyone you want me to give a message to or … try to say something?” Echo offered and felt that burning urge to rage and fight and cry out this pain. Damn these Skaikru fools. They had done this to themselves and it was unfair to make her hurt so much, just to know them and then lose them. 

“No. Just, just the flowers, okay?” Bellamy replied. He didn’t bother to accept the food or drink from the flask. Like Harper, he had accepted his fate. Only Miller seemed determined, some radiant optimism that was slipping away by the day in the care and keeping of the Azgeda Queen. He didn’t have much longer either. She had seen it a hundred times before and she’d see it a hundred times again. This one hurt though and it was almost more than she could bear. She was glad they were sending her away. She didn’t want to be here for the end. 


	6. clarification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_In which Trikru puts some of the puzzle pieces together & Skaikru continues to disintegrate_ **

**_Lexa_ **

****

As was befitting the Heda of her Clan, Lexa’s residence was a sprawling affair built over several decades. Trikru did not tend to build their homes up like others. Instead they added on rooms as materials were available or space was needed. Her father referred to them as ‘rambleshacks’ since they tended to curve and twist as they filled up their space. She had to admit she loved her rambleshack. In spring, the lilacs blossomed over her eaves and every year, her people added more flowers to their gardens as they knew Lexa enjoyed them so.

Their winters were not as cold as experienced by those further from the coast but it could still get quite blustery and wet. Lexa’s home was built in a semi-circle, with two distinct wings of living quarters on each end, one for her and the other for the staff needed to maintain her large home and surrounding gardens. The front portion was the showpiece - more of a public space with large kitchens, offices and meeting rooms. 

The fires were roaring today throughout the Heda’s residence for it was a chilly and wet day and Lexa, for one, was glad to be inside. In a few days, she was travelling to meet with the Hefa Zoran of Podakru in Polis. It was an exciting opportunity. Ontari’s cruelties were escalating and while Zoran liked power and strength, he did not enjoy recklessness or uncertainty. He didn’t need a rash Azgeda Queen sending more people into his territory to force alterations to his carefully cultivated plans for food and medical resource distribution. He didn’t need more people to protect that owed him no loyalty. So he proposed this meeting with Heda Lexa to see what stability she could offer. The journey would be tedious in the winter weather but it was the first overture the Hefa of Podakru had made and she was not about to pass on such an opportunity to secure another ally. 

While Heda Luna of Floukru would not declare herself, Lexa was confident if she had the support of all but Azgeda, Luna would vote in favour of Lexa being the next Commander. Once Podakru was on board, she just had to contend with the cantankerous leader of Sangedakru. However, everyone knew Malachi was at risk of being overthrown by his own nephew, Knight. Little did people know that she had already been in communication with Knight and while they would never be friends, she understood him and his desire to protect his people. Their proximity to the Dead Zone led to many runaways crossing their territory on the way to the City of Light. If Lexa could find a way to prevent that, she might have the solution to bring Knight into her fold and encourage him to depose his uncle. Of course, that skill left her with the problems of Skaikru and Azgeda. Sighing, Lexa looked over the resource lists before her as she contemplated what she had to offer Podakru on behalf of herself and her allies when she heard the knock at the door. 

“Enter,” she stated firmly, loud enough to be heard. Lexa glanced up as a young messenger bearing Boudalan colours entered the room and respectfully handed her a thin sheaf of papers. 

“Thank you. You may take your rest in the kitchens and enjoy a little warmth and respite before I send you back with a message for Hefa Gustus,” she instructed politely and then gestured to the door. The messenger bowed respectfully and scurried away. Lexa suspected he was craving the warmth of the kitchens after the chill of his ride to her residence and also that he was hoping to chat up one of the pretty young kitchen servants. There were some lovely girls down there so she understood the inclination. This thought put an amused smile on her face. 

Seating herself, she read over the papers and registered her astonishment of his intentions to negotiate with Azgeda for the release of the Skaikru people into his care and custody. While he was going for more personal reasons on which he did not elaborate, he also indicated that if the Skaikru captives were alive Lexa and her allies might finally have the means of managing their awkward and downright obnoxious interactions with the people that fell from the sky and had caused nothing but problems thereafter. As she processed this thought, she reached for his hot tea and took a sip. 

Skaikru. Thinking of them brought to mind one person in particular - Clarke Griffin. The girl was next to impossible and Lexa couldn’t have said why she found the submissive so damned appealing. Skaikru as a whole was a complete mess. They were so accustomed to their authoritarian regime that they had no idea how to live with others who did not simply follow their commands. They did not grasp the concept of compromise. They were obnoxiously judgmental in their interactions, forever claiming the moral high ground. Every negotiation with them failed as a result. 

To make matters worse, they had suppressed their biological needs so heavily in their home in the Sky that they seemed erratic and uncontrolled. They didn’t understand the interactions which governed their society or the important but vital distinctions between submissives and Dominants, leading to neither group properly getting their needs met. This resulted in intemperate Dominants and needy or aggressive submissives, as well as situations ripe for abusive interactions. 

She knew there was one particular submissive that she wouldn’t mind helping to meet their reciprocal needs. The vision of Clarke on her knees, obedient to her will, was one she turned over in her mind after she blew out the candles, let the darkness descend and her hand slipped between her thighs to seek her own pleasure. The young Queen shifted in her seat, unable to stop that coil of heat weaving down her spine from her designation mark all the way to the core of her sex. 

Lexa glanced down again at Gustus’ missive before picking up her pot of ink and the nibbed pen with which she preferred to write. Her response was short but encouraging. If Gustus felt this was a good move then she had no cause to doubt him and supported his plan forward. She was sufficiently curious about the unnamed personal reasons but was also aware he was unlikely to commit those to paper. She would pester him about that in the spring when they met at the annual conclave. She signed off wishing him luck on his journey and the subsequent headache he would likely have dealing with whomever of Skaikru had survived their experience in Queen Ontari’s care and keeping. Lexa was a fierce woman and a strong warrior but even she would not take on such an intense burden. Gustus was a braver person than she could ever hope to be. 

She set the letter to the side to allow the ink to dry and set down her pen again. Lexa tapped her fingertips against the desk, a nervous habit she only allowed herself in private. If Gustus’ thoughts bore fruit to aid with their Skaikru issue and she was successful with Podakru then they would be down to merely the headache of Sangedakru. If Knight proved to be an ally, then they might finally be down to just the problem of the Wicked Queen of the North. The Ice Nation bitch was indeed as wicked as any fairy story but she was still just a person. Even she could and would die. It was all very promising. Very promising indeed. 

Now if she could only get that blue-eyed submissive out of her head or in her bed. At this point she knew what she would prefer. For others they may have been dissuaded but Lexa did not allow herself to be governed by the winds of fates. 

**_Gaia_**

Polis was a sleepy city during the long months of winter. The markets were small, the slave auctions consisted merely of locals and the streets were quiet. It was usually the time Gaia concentrated on her studies and updating her own records for the Archives. For there was much to record over this last year or so with the rise of the Azgeda Queen and the arrival of the people from the sky. It was certainly dramatic but she had no idea if it boded well for their collective future. She stretched and looked over at her lover. She adored the strong line of his back and the fair curls that brushed against his neck. He made her ache in a way no one else ever had in her life. All her life, she was surrounded by her mother’s fierce and handsome warriors before leaving to join the Flamekeepers, and was once again surrounded by the clever and the beautiful.

She had never been interested in pursuing anything with any of them. She had met many submissives among the Flamekeepers and Archivists who made it very clear that they would be honoured to serve her in any way she wished. She was not the slightest bit tempted. She met her needs with basic, non-sexual scenes usually and rarely thought more of it. 

Then, on a journey to collect an Archivist’s records after she had been fatally injured in an accident near the Dead Zone, her horse had been spooked and she had been thrown. She was found by Otan and his beloved sister of the heart, Emori. The two of them patched her up and aided in her recovery. With shame, she had to admit she had never spent time with any of their kind before and soon the scales fell from her eyes. Otan escorted her back to the City of Polis and over that journey she had fallen in love with her desert nomad. It had been two winters now and although their relationship remained fraught with challenges, she would take every risk just to keep him. She longed for more but contented herself with the gifts she had been given. 

Otan tugged back the curtains and peered out into the snowy City before pulling them into place once again. Gaia knew he was worried about his sister and her adventure to Boudalan. All they knew was that she had survived the journey. That message they had received from an Archivist currently staying in that territory for the winter. The Archivist claimed it was to record local events but Gaia suspected a relationship between the man and one of Gustus’ guards was the true reason. She could scarcely blame the man for she had followed her own heart as well. 

“How much time do we have?” he asked as he approached the bed, keeping to the shadows. It was a habit he did not break, even in her company. It made her heart ache. He was the sweetest submissive she had ever met, with shy bright eyes and a gentle disposition. Yet because of the ridge along one cheekbone and down into his jaw that set him apart, he had been thrown away as an infant, labeled a _freikdreina_ and left to die. 

She would prefer to put an entirely different label on him - her submissive. Alas, the first label meant she could never give him the second, at least not in a public manner. It would cost her the position she fought to attain and would likely cost him his life. So they skulked in the shadows and caught furtive moments and long winter nights together. 

“We have until morning, my love. Now come to bed.” she murmured soothingly, holding out a hand toward him and beckoning him back under the warm blankets. The Temple was not a warm place after all, especially with the fires banked while everyone slept. 

Otan slipped under the covers and brushed a hand over the candle, plunging the room into darkness once again. He preferred it that way and she found it hard to object to anything that brought him comfort. She however was delighted to look upon her lover in the light. His lips dusted over her shoulder as his hand traced over the curve of her abdomen. The pregnancy was still well-hidden and would remain so for a long time yet. 

They had discussed this possibility several times since becoming lovers and were well aware of the painful decisions yet to come. If the child was like him, he would disappear with their little one into the Dead Zone. If the child was unmarred by his afflictions, the child would be sent to live with Indra, Gaia’s mother and Queen of Trishanakru. Neither option was ideal but children under the age of ten were not permitted within the Tower so they would do what they must. She always knew that if she had a child she would not be able to raise it but somehow the reality was much harder to bear than anticipated. 

“I am sorry.” He whispered quietly but she shook her head, cupping his face with both hands and pulled him into a gentle kiss. 

“I have no regrets. I love you and I love our child.” she replied and dusted another kiss over his lips. 

“If you had a claim though, they would be able to raise the baby nearby. So you could still see them and fulfill your duties” Otan protested, although she could feel his tension slipping away as her fingers brushed over his raised designation mark. Submissives were often comforted by such a touch and before her, he got his needs met only rarely and by those who were as desperate as he was. She was the first to provide him with the consistency of connection that a submissive craved, even if they were too proud to admit it. 

“I will never claim unless it can be you.” Gaia stated firmly and swept a kiss over the man’s soft lips. He groaned against her mouth and poured himself into it, the way he always did. She luxuriated in his worship. “Make love to me again.” she whispered against those lips. “We have until morning light and I have missed you.” 

**_Anya_**

Anya slowed her horse to a walk as the Guard approached. His unit was stationed some distance from Arkadia, along with a few others. Skaikru were observed at all times, even when they believed they might not be. However, it was tedious to just watch these fools make mistakes over and over again so Anya ensured a regular rotation between this duty and others that were more engaging and less frustrating.

“Good day, Lady Anya.” Pelom, the Guard, greeted with a respectful nod of his head. “There is someone here who wishes to speak with you.” 

Anya blinked in surprise but it was the only indication that this news startled her. She had few tells and maintained a stoic demeanour as a rule, something she strove to teach Lexa, although she was unconvinced that the girl had completely absorbed the lesson. 

“You have my curiosity, Pelom.” She replied as she dismounted from her animal and passed the reins to one of her men. 

“He is from Arkadia and came, unarmed, asking to speak with someone in charge. I did not satisfy his curiosity so I thought you might.” Pelom continued to explain before pausing, “I should advise that he is …” the guard paused as if grasping for the right word to use. Anya didn’t blame him for his hesitancy. The level of dysregulation among these people from the Sky was uncomfortable for all of her well trained people. 

Their uninvited guest was pacing around the firepit as another guard observed him like he was a feral animal about to turn at any moment. A small building rose just beyond the firepit. It was only a few rooms and rather poorly built as it was meant to be used for temporary stays. It used to be a hunting shack and now they used it as an observation post. It was warm enough due to the fire burning in the hearth of the fireplace and the insulation effect of the snowfall. The upstairs room was kept in good order for her use. There were two other small sleeping rooms and a living and dining area for the guards who were not on duty at the moment. 

Anya walked forward, her heavily embroidered, fur lined cloak swept the snow as she did so. It was a striking image and one she deliberately cultivated - fearsome and beautiful. “Good day. I am Anya kom Trikru. I understood you were seeking to speak to someone in authority.” Her smile turned a little sharp, as if it had a bite of its own, “I assure you I have sufficient authority.” 

The man looked up and the desperation and aching need that ribboned off him struck at her like a harsh slap. She pulled herself together but she could feel the guards around her, most of which were Dominants, growing edgy in the presence of this submissive male in a spiral. 

Anya gestured toward the hunting shack turned guard station, “Step inside please. I think we could use a little privacy for our discussion.” It was an order barely framed as a request. She could tell he ached to deny it but then nodded and headed for the door. He did not wait for her, as the Dominant, to step through first. Honestly these people had no manners at all. It was shocking. 

She turned to Pelom, “Keep everyone out until I get him sorted. I brought some additional food to replenish the stores and a few bottles of plum brandy. Treat everyone to an extra serving today. They need it.” she instructed firmly and was met with Pelom’s ready agreement. 

Walking through the door, she unbuttoned her cloak and hung it to dry before removing her boots. Only when she was down to the form fitting leather trousers and corseted top above her linen blouse did she stride forward again, seating herself in the worn chair before the fireplace. As if realizing he was still in his winter gear, the man stripped off his hat, jacket and scarf as well. 

“Do I get the privilege of knowing your name, Skaikru?” she asked and watched as his face bloomed into a fiery blush of mortification. 

“I … I apologize. I am Jacapo Sinclair. I am an Engineer with the Ark. I mean in Arkadia. Skaikru.” His words tripped over themselves and Anya watched him with wary eyes as he spoke. He was a handsome older man with dark curls liberally streaked with grey. He looked as though he had some tales to tell and in another circumstance she would be intrigued to hear them. However, his energy was almost smothering. 

“Good day, Jacapo Sinclair of Skaikru. What do you need?” she asked quietly, wondering as to his answer and what brought him here. 

“We think we are being poisoned but we can’t tell how and … and we need help.” he explained and Anya had to admit she was instantly concerned. Her guards had reported no tampering by anyone from another Clan and her own were strictly tasked with watching Skaikru and not intervening in any capacity. 

“What are the symptoms? Has anyone died? What is the suspected source?” she asked sharply. 

“People are jumpy, aggressive, there are fevers, anxiety spikes, loss of appetite and violence and …” the Skaikru submissive started and Anya’s shoulders loosened as her lips curved in an amused smirk. 

“I think I can readily provide the solution to your problems, Jacapo Sinclair.” she stated with a laugh. A frown darkened his handsome features as he replied hotly. “Do not laugh at me! At us. This is serious. We are …” 

“Suffering. I am aware. But only because you are failing to meet your basic biological needs.” she interrupted before he could blather on any further. God, these people were such children. It was exhausting interacting with them. To think she had been recently toying with obtaining a younger submissive to breed. She was having second thoughts now. 

“What! That doesn’t make sense. We have food, water, shelter and air. Those are the basics of any human being’s biological needs.” the man replied crisply, clearly not understanding. 

This was draining and she didn’t have the patience for it. “Knees.” she ordered brusquely. 

His body quivered like the string of a bow and he gasped out, “What!” 

“Knees. Now.” She repeated herself and then looked at him with hard eyes as she rose to her feet, “If I repeat myself again, I will warm your ass with my paddle.” 

He sank to his knees, clearly confused, and she laid her hand on the top of his head and ran it back to cup the nape of his neck, hidden under the collar of his clothing. She pressed the heel of her palm lightly into his designation mark and heard that soft rush of air as it left his body. There was a radiant heat flowing from his mark such that it almost burned her palm. The profound neglect was leaving physical wounds. 

“Good boy. See how much better this is. Breathe in and breathe out. When I feel you settle I will explain my words. At no point will you interrupt me. When I have concluded my explanation, you may ask questions. When you speak to me or of me, you will refer to me as Mistress or Lady Anya. You will not be disrespectful.” Anya stated firmly and then fell silent, letting the man’s body start to truly relax into the touch. Already his unruly energy was starting to calm and was no longer making her feel edgy and hostile. It was amazing that Arkadia hadn’t burned itself out if this was an example of just one of their submissives. 

After several minutes of silence marred only by the ragged sound of breathing and the crackle of the fire, Anya glanced down at the handsome man’s face and noted the trickle of tears over his cheeks. She dusted them away with her other hand before brushing that hand through the soft curls. She always did enjoy curls on her men. 

“I don’t understand, Lady Anya.” he whispered. 

Anya laughed but it was neither cruel nor ill-intended, “You’re an Engineer you said?” He nodded but did not speak so she continued, “I understand that to be an important position. You are accustomed to understanding the why of things so let me explain. Your people have lived in a state of deprivation. I am not speaking of the food, water, air and so forth. I know you had some advantages in your sky home that perhaps we have lacked. But you medicated away your true natures and then were caught unaware when you landed on the ground and those medications went away. You had forgotten an essential part of your humanity for so long that you didn’t even remember that you had those needs. Like a child growing up without language and then suddenly being expected to speak. You were lost and we did not understand this about you or your people either.” 

He opened his mouth and she whispered, “Hush. I am going to sit now. You are going to be a good boy and if you are, you may put your head on my lap while I continue to explain.” When she stepped away, he cried out, just a soft noise that indicated how bereft he felt from the loss of her hand against the nape of his neck. Skaikru truly were starving themselves. 

Anya seated herself and he crawled forward, clearly uncomfortable and awkward with the motion. She had never seen such a submissive in private before that was so uncertain of themselves or the value of what they had to offer. His head brushed against her knee and she threaded her hand back into the curls as her other hand dusted fingertips over his mark. 

“I suspect you have told yourselves that sex is enough. It is not. Sex is not the main course of submission. It can be a part of it of course, a rather delightful part, but it is not the essence of it. Submission is a gift and release for the Dominant as much as it is for you. We are taught from the time we are children how to interact within our dynamic, the poses, the basic scenes, how to apply discipline as needed. It does not make a submissive less because both are required for an interaction to be fulfilling.” Anya explained as she slowly carded her fingers through the man’s hair. She leaned in and dusted a soft kiss over his temple. He groaned softly and his eyes fluttered open. 

“Feeling better?” she murmured and he nodded, “Yes but I don’t understand why, Lady Anya.” 

“Because you need it as much as you need to eat or drink or breathe. It is a part of you and your people are being poisoned by their own bodies.” She explained as she traced her fingertips over his designation mark. “There is an old tale of a Hefa who built collars for a group of people such that no one could touch their marks, not themselves, not others, and then he left a group of Dominants alone in one community and submissives in another. It was an experiment to see what would happen if they were left alone for some time. They were not permitted to leave and there was enough food and water to last them a year. It is a nightmare story that we tell the unruly for the submissives became so desperate that the few that were living when the Hefa’s guards returned would have allowed those guards to do anything they wished, anything at all, to the point of injury or even death. The Dominants were even worse for there was no one living when they returned. All were dead by either their own hand or another’s. If your people continue on this path, we will not have to attack you. We will merely have to wait and then your submissives will come with us of their own free will and the Dominants will be left to their mortal ends.” 

Jacapo sat up and stared at her with wide eyes at these words. “What are the symptoms?” 

“You already know them. You see them. The anger, the violence, the irrationality and paranoia, exhaustion, hopelessness… you have seen them, no?” 

The man’s forehead came down to rest on the smooth leather of her trousers. Bending low, she pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck over his mark and felt his body react like she had run a bolt of lightning through him. His hand curled over her calf, stroking lightly. 

“Would you like a lesson, Jacapo Sinclair?” she offered. 

“Yes please, Lady Anya.” his voice was muffled but she heard him well enough. 

“First lesson for a submissive is that you are a whole person who deserves to have your limits and preferences treated with respect. A Dominant may challenge these, push against your softer limits at times, especially if they have earned your trust. However, every submissive has their stop word. A word that means that everything comes immediately to an end and their afters are provided.” Anya murmured. It was a lesson she had said before, usually to the older teens that were being reminded of these basic facts. 

“Afters? Why is a stop word needed? Why isn’t no enough?” the submissive asked and these were very young questions like a submissive at the end of childhood, shortly after their mark had come in. She smiled at the juxtaposition of such young person questions coming out of a man of his age. Despite herself she was finding this Skaikru man rather charming. 

“Afters … the affection and care you receive after a scene. It varies with the person. Some like to be held, some like to be bathed, some like to eat … as you grow you and the play partners you have will try different things out until you find the afters you prefer. Submissives and Dominants both require the afters. To care for your submissive at that moment is beautiful in and of itself.” She explained kindly before laughing a little at his next question, “Because _no_ can sometimes be part of the scene. Sometimes when I have a pretty creature tied to my bed and my hand is on their cock and I am stroking him, he begs and whispers - _no no no no Mistress_ \- but he doesn’t mean it. Not as a stop word. He wants me to keep going, he is desperate for it in fact. But he wants to feel overtaken and possessed and it makes him feel so very good. However, should he use his stop word, I would halt immediately in my teasing. Depending on the level of distress shown, we would discuss. Perhaps the bindings are making his shoulders hurt or something that could be remedied. Sometimes it means he is done now. I respect his right to stop at all times. You see …” 

She tucked her hands under Jacapo Sinclair’s chin and tipped his head up to meet her eyes. “The real lesson is that the control of a Dominant is always an illusion. The beginning and ending of a scene is the submissive. They have priority. It goes Submissive Needs, Dominant Needs, Dominant Wants, Submissive Wants. In that order. Every time. Anything less and the Dominant has failed in their duties and is unworthy of their submissive.” 

The Skaikru man’s expression cleared and something, she knew, something had fallen into place for him. Something she had said had made sense to this logical man. She trailed her hand from under his chin to graze over his chest and then down to cup his cock through the fabric of his trousers. “Perhaps you would like to play my captive sometime? Beg me to stop … _oh please wicked woman_ you would moan. What do you call us again? _Grounders._ I could be your very bad Grounder warrior and you could be my delicious prize.” 

His eyes darkened and his body reacted, whether to her words or her touch or the combination of the two, but it didn’t matter. His hips pressed into her hand as he was eager for more. However, she let her hand fall away and she smiled down at him as she sat back in her chair. 

“Please Lady Anya.” He was starting to beg but already she could see his energy was now in harmony. She had barely touched him and he was in considerably better shape than when he arrived. Interesting to say the least. They were so needy that all it took was the bare minimum for them to be settled into a workable form. 

“I could persuade my Queen and her allies to offer proper lessons to Skaikru. However, it would be part of a negotiation. You do not get without giving, Jacapo Sinclair. We make our way through life by reciprocity. It is time for Skaikru to stop simply taking - our land, our resources, our people - without also giving. So, go speak to your leader and your people in authority. I am prepared to discuss further with your healers and your Chancellor. I can offer nothing without consultation with my Queen.” Her words were firm and final. 

“Oh but …” he still tried to protest. Anya cupped the back of his head and leaned in to claim his lips in a long, heated kiss. He gasped as she broke it. 

“It is time for you to return to your people. I will have the guard escort you. It was a pleasure to meet you, Jacapo Sinclair. I hope to see you again. Soon.” It was a dismissal. His mouth opened then closed before he finally stated quietly, “Yes, Mistress.” 

And there was the title she had truly been seeking. “Good boy.” 

His eyes blazed with heat but he managed to struggle to his feet and pull on his winter clothing again. No further words were spoken. It was unnecessary. He had some thinking to do and she needed to commit this moment to paper and send word to Lexa. 

The Queen needed to know how overwrought Skaikru had become. 

Desperation was dangerous. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little bit of a lighter chapter this week but I hope it aids in clarification of my universe and of course I can't resist making Anya the coolest boss-ass bitch of all time. i hope you all enjoy and thank you again for taking the time to read my messy tale. If you have a thought or critique, I'd love to hear it. Otherwise I hope everyone has a fantastic day. Shout out again to my beta reader for taking the time in her busy life to continue to provide wonderful feedback and edits!!


	7. rescues & consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****  
> _In which broken things are collected but pieces have been lost_  
> 
> 
> _Trigger Warning for abuse, dubious consent, non consent and graphic descriptions of injuries. Please do not read if triggering for you._

**_Gustus_ **

The horse drawn sleigh crossed the frozen river and despite the encouragement Gustus had received from his allies, the man was having doubts. The odds that anyone from Skaikru was still alive were so slim as to be nearly impossible. There was something ominous about crossing into Azgeda territory. He had only passed through this territory maybe a dozen times in his entire life and he always found it grim after the cheerful colour of his own community. The Ice Nation certainly lived up to its name. They passed through none of Azgeda’s communities, following the route specifically prescribed by Queen Ontari. She liked people to know as little of her territory as possible. Queen Nia had been the same, and as such, precise knowledge of the Ice Nation was fairly limited. Azgeda was well populated but there was no evidence of it on his long overnight journey.

His sleigh was piled high with blankets and furs and his guard rode in front and behind in a trio of sleighs heavily laden with initial offerings and the weapons that had been negotiated extensively. Emori had fretted through every exchange, wanting everything to hurry even if she logically understood that her ends would not be achieved without these negotiations. 

If he were entirely honest with himself, Gustus was really here for her, those wide dark eyes filled with hope were nearly impossible to resist. Every other reason he possessed for heading out on this adventure was a justification after he had made the decision. He had made it because of Emori. She had been an unexpected breath of life to his home, one he had not been aware that he needed and if saving her boy meant she would stay a little longer, then he would do it. It was rather pitiful at his age to be chasing stars because of a pretty submissive. 

In his pocket was the last gift he had asked of her, an object of hers that the boy would recognize, to provide some assurance, assuming he was still alive and sensible enough to recognize anything. She had given him a square of fabric that she used to tie back her hair. If he had enough of his wits, he would identify it as belonging to her. He hoped that would be the case. Emori’s optimism radiated from her and as cynical as he could be, Gustus found himself a little caught in it when she was nearby. Now that she was at his home, patiently or rather impatiently, waiting for his return, he found himself doubting the odds of success. 

The gates of the Azgeda Manor rose in front of him and the driver slowed the horses to a steady trot. They pulled into the courtyard and the sleigh was brought to a stop. His guards disembarked first and then came to stand next to his sleigh as the Hefa emerged from under the furs and stepped out. The large man towered over his tallest guard. He heard one of them catch their breath and he looked up. 

In a swath of blood red leather highlighting every curve stood Heda Ontari, waiting for the Boudalankru King and his entourage to approach. He nodded his head with respect and she did the same. It was all a dance now, careful and reciprocal. She invited him inside and he accepted. The room was gloriously appointed with her best furnishings and wines with a buffet of delectable offerings laid out. She took a bite and then so did one of his guards before dining himself. 

They discussed borders and the terrible influenza that had swept over the western territories - particularly Poda, Trishana and Azgeda. They discussed everything and yet nothing of importance. Neither said anything that the other did not already know, after all. Then as the morning started to bloom, they got down to the heart of it - cessation of the raids of her warriors into allied territories, currency, cattle, food and, of course, Boudalan medicines. By the time the breakfast had been laid upon the table, numbers and delivery dates were being committed to paper when Gustus finally stated, “And I want all Skaikru slaves, guests, whatever you are calling them.” 

The Azgeda Queen blinked and looked up at him. It was the first time he had surprised her since he arrived. “Excuse me.” she murmured. 

Gustus replied calmly as he continued to make notes of the agreed delivery dates, “I have a plan for the forthcoming Conclave and for that, I need everyone you are holding. Everyone living that is.” 

Ontari shrugged lightly, “Well I think some of them are. I haven’t looked in a few days.” Gustus shrugged, affecting a nonchalance he did not feel, “Everyone living will do. You’re done with them by now? Unless you’ve become … fond of them.” 

The petite Queen laughed, “Of course not.” Gustus chuckled in agreement, “I thought as much. I’ll just mark it here. How many are there?” 

“Four.” Ontari blurted out and then had the grace to realize she had accidentally spoken the truth. Gustus just nodded as if she had given away nothing new to his known information, “Four at last check. I’ll note that.” 

As he was portraying a casual demeanour, she adopted the same. “Three are in the dungeon and one is upstairs. I’ll have my guards bring up the ones from the dungeon.” 

“Thank you. I’ll walk up to get the upstairs one from you after we each sign our agreements.” Gustus affirmed as Ontari’s scribe quickly noted up her copy and the two exchanged. They read over, agreed that the terms were accurate and both signed. Gustus handed a copy to the Archivist in residence with Heda Ontari to make a good likeness while he handed his copy to one of his guards. He preferred to manage his own records but it would remain safely in the guard’s keeping until he was on home territory again. He had secured a good deal, giving up far less medicine than he was prepared to part with in order to rescue Emori’s boy and the rest of the Skaikru slaves held by Ontari. 

It was the mid-morning now and he had yet to rest. If he were sensible, he would spend the remainder of the day and overnight here, leaving in the following morning hours. However, he did not wish to stay and he rather suspected that Ontari was eager to have him depart. To be entirely fair to the young Heda, she cared more for the general well-being of her people than even Nia. She just had a cruel streak that Gustus would and could never trust. 

Collecting his jacket, he allowed one of his people to assist him into it and then bade for Ontari to lead the way. She smiled as she reached the door to the playroom. “I’m not at all sure this one is alive and if he is not, just advise my guards. I am going to rest now. Thank you Hefa.” Her head bowed respectfully and he could not fault her diplomacy, even if he was left with a sense of unease. 

“I bid you good rest, Heda Ontari. I will see you at the Conclave.” he assured her. He was not concerned about her failing to live up to her side of the bargain. Ontari had many flaws but she always kept to the terms of her agreements. She had signed and she would live up to them, as would he. 

He was apprehensive as one of her guards, with the ugliest smile Gustus had ever seen twisting his face grotesquely, seemed rather proud to push open the door and allow him to step through. The first thing that hit him was the stench. It smelled of pain and human waste. It was a playroom, that much was evident by the furnishings, and there were rusty brown blood stains marring most of it. Only his years of experience kept his rage and disgust contained. He could not make out a person in the room until he stepped around one large apparatus to see a human shape pressed against the wall. 

One eye opened, revealing a bright blue shade mixed with hazy pain, while the other was crusted over with blood and what appeared to be some sort of infection. At the sight of someone approaching the boy stood on shaky legs and tried to hold himself upright. Gustus held out his hand to the guard, waiting for the key to the collar to be deposited in it before he instructed his guard and Ontari’s guard to remain at the door. 

He circled the furniture and came to a stop an arm’s length away from the shaking boy, with the key to his collar in his hand. The slave’s back straightened as Gustus approached and his hazy eye looked up to meet the centre of the Hefa’s chest and then slowly travelled upward until he landed on Gustus’ face. The boy’s trembling increased and his chin lifted defensively as his gaze fell away. 

Gustus could see the bruises, cuts and welts that bloomed over the slave's skin, some of which looked like they had been burned into that pale flesh and others looked like they were bite marks. By all the old gods, Gustus had never seen such anyone alive so brutalized in all his days. He reached for the collar and the boy flinched, pressing himself against the cool stone of the wall. 

“I’ll do what you want.” the boy pledged quickly in a raspy voice that was barely audible. “Just don’t …” The chin quivered again as he fell silent and yet that back remained straight. Gustus had to admit he was impressed as the abused boy worked to keep his remaining dignity, whatever scraps he had left, intact. Gustus noted that the collar was a particularly cruel kind that allowed for no means to touch the boy’s designation marks. The fucking torment must have been unimaginable. Gustus unlocked the collar and tossed it and the key onto the floor, where it clattered so loudly both guards jumped at the sudden noise. 

After shrugging out of his jacket, the Hefa laid the heavy fur lined length of material over the boy’s shoulders. The weight of it made him droop as if it were unbearably heavy. Still the boy’s hands grasped at it and he tugged it around himself, as if afraid it would be snatched away. Gustus wasn’t persuaded the boy could walk. 

“Hurry up now.” Ontari’s guard snarled, evidently bored with the low drama of the event. The Hefa wasn’t sure what the guard expected but it evidently was not this quiet claiming. Emori’s boy looked up again and then whispered, “Are you taking me to another room? Is this it?” There were tears sparkling in that bright eye and he prayed that Ontari had not robbed the boy of the vision of the other eye for he wished to see two such blue eyes looking at him soon. Gustus reached into his shirt pocket to withdraw a scrap of fabric and pressed it into the boy’s hand. “Hush with those tears. You belong to me now.” 

The boy looked down at the fabric, clearly puzzled, and then as if it all came together, his head snapped up, his eye wide and his body trembled. Taking advantage of the boy’s evident surprise, Gustus bent forward and scooped Emori’s boy off his feet and carried him out of the room. He cried out for there was no part of him that did not hurt but the boy made no effort to fight him, just laying limply in the man’s arms. The boy’s head brushed against his shoulder and Gustus heard a soft whisper of “Emori.” 

“Shhh.” Gustus cautioned, pleased the boy had so readily recognized the fabric. “You’ll see her soon.” he pledged quietly and used one hand to cover the boy in the length of his jacket so that no one else could see what or whom he was carrying. The three other Skaikru slaves stood by the entrance to the grand building - two males and a slender female. All three wore nothing even though the doors were now open, billowing snow and freezing wind into the Manor. He did not acknowledge them yet but noted that although they were not as badly physically damaged as the boy in his arms, their spirits were broken. They made no attempt to cover themselves or protect themselves from the cold. They did not look up or seem curious as to where they were going. They were resigned to their fates and believed this was the end of their terrible time in Azgeda. They were right about that last part at least. 

The air was cold enough to bite and snow drifted in its leisurely path to the ground. His sleigh was brought around as he waited. The sturdy team of draft horses were built and bred to withstand this weather. They had a good night’s rest and excellent care from his driver and groom while Gustus had spent the night negotiating. Gustus placed the boy bundled in his jacket into his seat and tucked the furs around him so that one could barely make out the slender male under the pile of fabric. 

Once the abused slave was tucked into the sleigh, he returned to the entrance and picked up the slender female. She whimpered softly but she had no more fight in her and just let herself lay against him. After months with Ontari, it was amazing all of them were alive. These Skaikru were clearly a sturdy group of people. He carried her to the sleigh and then looked back to see that the other two had followed neatly behind. The young man whom Gustus presumed to be the son of David Miller, his unexpected visitor, looked up at him and then bowed his head respectfully. 

“Where would you like us, Master?” he asked quietly. 

“Inside, next to your friend here.” Gustus replied, gesturing to the girl who was seated opposite of where the bundled John Murphy was tucked in. They looked surprised and climbed in, careful not to touch him or each other. Gustus gestured to the furs and blankets around them. The girl didn’t need to be told twice, tugging them up and over herself. The others followed suit until they were fairly buried, with only their small faces watching him with empty eyes. They expected nothing anymore and had no hope they were travelling to somewhere better. 

He closed the door to the sleigh behind him and tucked himself under the blankets as well. He arranged the bundle to his side so that the boy swathed in his jacket and under the heavy furs had his head resting against Gustus’ side. The driver stopped by his door and the Hefa advised the young man of their new destination. 

“Wait. Wait.” The taller slave boy stated, dark curls falling into his eyes as he spoke, rising to his feet and looking back toward the building. “There is one more. Blue eyes. Dark hair. They were keeping him upstairs. His name is Murphy. John Murphy. Please.” 

The boy against his side turned slightly but the fabric seemed too heavy for him to move so Gustus tugged it down such that the others could see his face or what had become of his face at least. The taller boy took a seat and looked at Murphy until the blankets came up again and he was hidden from them once again. Only then did the slave look away. Gustus slipped his hand under the fabric and tenderly stroked John Murphy’s designation mark. 

“He’s here.” Gustus murmured quietly. The others had fallen silent. There was a large enough bench opposite him that the three could sit there comfortably without touching but they seemed to be going out of their way not to make contact. The girl was wedged into the corner as much as she could be under the circumstances and she had buried herself completely. Rather than cuddle into either other person, the middle one was stoically still and rigid, and the taller, leaner boy had his gaze outside the sleigh, watching as the Manor receded in the distance. 

They travelled for several hours and Gustus was almost asleep when he heard one of them speak. “Where are you taking us?” 

Gustus blinked and looked down at the bundle of boy to his left and sighed, “The Healer’s House to start. Once I am assured you will all survive, to my residence.” 

“And then?” It was a whispered plea for information more than a demand. 

“Then we will see whether you remain with me or go back to Arkadia at the next Conclave.” Gustus responded honestly. 

“Why?” 

“Why you would go back to Arkadia?” Gustus questioned with a frown. 

“No.” The son of David Miller shook his head and then grimaced as if the motion hurt. “Why are you doing this?” 

“Because a girl named Emori made a bargain with me. If she wishes to share the terms with you, she may do so.” Gustus replied honestly. 

“Who’s Emori?” 

“The lover of John Murphy.” Gustus glanced down at the boy tucked up against him, whom he would have believed was asleep if he wasn’t rolling the fabric of Emori’s headscarf between his fingertips. “I know you are in a lot of pain right now,” he whispered to the boy, “but hold on as best you can. She needs you. You both need each other. I’m going to bring you home to her.” A hand broke from the fabric to wrap around Gustus’ wrist of the hand that had not left the boy’s designation mark. “Hold on.” The Hefa repeated. 

It was going to be a long winter. 

**_Echo_**

Echo slipped a hand under her hair and rubbed furtively over her mark. She hoped wherever they landed there were a few tolerable Dominants. She could use a good scene with someone who actually knew what a stop word was and respected her limits. Then she laughed at herself. In her life, she could count on less than both hands how many times she had been afforded such a scene. People liked to hurt her, to see what point she finally cried. It took a lot and sometimes she wished it were not the case because she loathed the feeling of challenge she set to a cruel Dominant. She knew it was different elsewhere but Echo kom Azgeda, the spy, was not permitted such luxuries.

Roan was quiet today and seemed thoughtful, which likely meant explanations were forthcoming. They were on the road to the City of Polis, where apparently a meeting had been arranged but she did not know with whom or for what purpose. Echo kept quiet, waiting to see if she was about to hear the truth of the plan. She was trying to distract herself from the four people she had left behind for she could see them every time she closed her eyes and it made her heart ache. Damn those Skaikru fools, as if she could make herself hate them so that she didn’t grieve them. 

“Skaikru.” Roan started and Echo’s heart nearly stopped in her chest. Did he know? Was this how she died? She turned cautious eyes toward the Haihefa and waited for him to continue. 

“I have it on good authority that they need to restore an alliance with Trikru and the others at the next Conclave, which means they need to offer up a slave of their own to them. I am going to propose that slave be you.” He continued. 

“Me? Won’t it be obvious that I am not Skaikru?” she questioned and prayed her words caused no offence. 

Instead he nodded thoughtfully as he leaned over to pat the neck of his horse. Roan was nicer to animals than he was to people and it might actually be his only good quality in her opinion. She watched him carefully, hoping he had a further explanation. 

“We are meeting with several members of Skaikru in Polis. If they agree to my plan, you will go with them. They will teach you to speak like them, understand their history, and mirror their ways. You have done worse.” he continued. She blinked in surprise for it was an ambitious plan to say the least. 

“You need to be seen enough around Arkadia that at the Conclave, the Trikru spies will recognize you as one of them. Then you will be offered to them. Hopefully you will end up with Lexa or Gustus. You will live there for a time, gathering and sending us information. When the time is right, you will kill them.” Roan continued quietly. 

“I’ll never get away after that.” Echo murmured softly and he shook his head, “You might and if you don’t, well, it is time for you to give the ultimate tribute for your people, for your Queen. Ontari deserves to be the Commander and Azgeda should rule all the Clans. We will then use the information you have given us about Arkadia to destroy them and take advantage of the subsequent chaos in Boudalan and Tri to acquire the resources we need for our people.” 

She wasn’t sure she could breathe. This was it. The last assignment was an inevitability for any spy. Some had the opportunity to retire into a claim and raise children loyal to their Queen. But for her there would be a dramatic end. At least she would be a good story. 

“If you fail in this, Echo, you will be exiled from Azgeda and your name never spoken again.” Roan stated flatly and Echo thought her heart truly did stop. Exile? After all she had sacrificed! 

“Even if I did nothing to cause this failure?” she questioned. 

“Succeed and die a glorious death or be forever hunted and unwelcome among your own people. These are your final choices, Echo.” Roan’s words were a knife in her heart. He leaned toward her and nodded, “I believe you can do this, Echo. You will be the reason our Queen will rise and then you will never be forgotten.” 

She swallowed her doubts and nodded, “Yes, your Highness. Thank you for your faith in me.” 

Bleakly she noted to herself that if her name was to be forever remembered, it would be nice if it were her real name. She urged her mount into a gallop as the City of Polis rose in the distance. She didn’t understand these Skaikru people and now she was to live among them, learn to pretend to be one of them. They seemed so alien to her. How could she look them in the eye knowing what she had left behind in the Azgeda Manor? How could she work with them knowing that every morsel of information she submitted would be used to bring about the end of these people. She had been a spy since she was 10 years of age but never before had the stakes been so high. 

Rubbing her fingers together, she remembered the soft feeling of Bellamy’s curls. Was he gone already? Was Miller still clinging? She bet he was. He was strong. He would be last, she was sure. And the first, well, Murphy would surely be the one. He was so battered and without her stopping in to feed him, he was living on borrowed time. Murphy had asked her to look for a girl with a tattooed face named Emori and pass along a message. Would she find that girl on this journey and tell her of the final days of the man she loved? Would she have that chance before she sacrificed one of the Clan leaders to the imperious whims of her Queen? 

She had to try for the broken boy with blue eyes who deserved no less. 

**_Roan_**

Roan watched as the stockier older man known as Charles Pike scowled at him. This man hated him. Roan could taste it in the air, the loathing, and it was delicious to him. He had to refrain from laughing at the foolish man, who was edgy with his disdain for Azgeda and his unregulated needs. If it were Ontari, he would object to the way this man was looking at the woman at his side. However, it was just Echo and as long as this Pike man didn’t mark the submissive’s face or maim her, Roan didn’t really care about her well-being.

The Chancellor cleared his throat and leaned toward the Prince as if trying to engage his confidence. The Prince lifted a brow and regarded the one known as Marcus Kane carefully as the other man spoke. 

“This seems risky.” 

“Life is risky. Coming down from your station in the sky was risky. However you need to trade. You won’t survive another winter like this one. No one survives on the ground without trade and you have enraged Lexa, Gustus and even that warrior witch of the west, Indra. They have what you need. Food. Medicine. Don’t they?” Roan challenged crisply and then softened. 

“We just want to put my person here in the right place to gather information. No harm to you. No harm to anyone really. My girl here gets a nice Skaikru kind of name. She works around your community enough to be a recognizable face by the Trikru, whom I’m guessing you are well aware watch every move in Arkadia.” Roan murmured, adding a persuasive note to his voice. 

“But …” 

Roan lifted a brow and laughed in a way that was intended to inspire confidence, “Listen pair her up with that young one of yours who’s spending time with one of Indra’s warriors. There you go. A concession without it being so large as to be disconcerting. You can say my girl here was bad, you’re turning her over as a punishment.” 

“We do not do things like that. We don’t sell our people.” Kane replied and glanced over at Clarke. It remained astonishing to Roan that they considered the views and words of young submissives like this but if it led these fools down the garden path then he supposed he could keep his mouth shut. 

Clarke looked at him with a stubborn lift to her chin, “We don’t do this. We protect our people.” 

Roan scoffed, “Everyone knows that you allowed someone from Skaikru to be sold at the Auctions.” Clarke had the grace to blush at his words. 

“To your sister I might add?” she replied crisply and if they weren’t in public, he’d paddle her bottom a glorious shade of red for speaking to him in that manner. However, he swallowed his ill feeling and nodded sadly, acknowledging his sister’s cruelties. 

“I get it. He wasn’t important to you and therefore his death will not be mourned. Still, you can’t sell the ‘all our people’ are important when it's been proven they are not. He was an outcast. Sell this submissive as one too. Tell them she is useless to you. It’s a little offensive but you are accustomed to doing that.” He gestured rudely at Echo as he spoke. She was silent, because she knew better than to speak when Dominants were in negotiation. 

“Death?” the Chancellor murmured quietly, “We had hoped he would come up for sale again.” 

Roan wanted to laugh but managed to restrain himself. He merely shook his head slowly and murmured in a sad tone, “You won’t see that boy again.” The little submissive sitting next to the Chancellor drew in a soft huff of air and looked up at the older man. Roan wondered at what that look might mean. An apology? Gloating? Did she care about that dumb kid or was she relieved he was gone? Honestly he couldn’t tell. Nor were these people aware of their three other prisoners since he had denied their existence of course. They weren’t going to be living long enough to be a problem for him. 

Echo shifted and he reached under the table and pinched her thigh hard where he had just spanked her thoroughly the night prior. She straightened subtly but kept her gaze ahead as she had been trained. Roan smirked to himself but glanced over at the others. “We are staying in the Azgeda residence near the Tower. If you change your mind …” His glance flicked to Clarke, “or wish to talk, I will be there for the next few days. I put forward this proposal to achieve mutual ends. We will find another way, but ask yourselves, will you? Will your people? Because people are saying that Skaikru is nearing the end and will crumble without any help from the Clans. So this is an offer, take it, don’t take it. My people will survive. I will survive.” The ‘yours will not’ was silent but still understood by all. 

With that Roan rose to his feet and his guards and Echo quickly followed suit. Echo tugged up her hood to hide her features from the observant at Roan’s direction so that she remained indistinguishable in the crowd, for now at least. He was a little frustrated by the Chancellor’s lack of appreciation for his plan. They were still so hung up on their optics without realizing their false principles meant nothing to the Clans. 

He sent Echo to the upstairs rooms and his men about their duties. Roan opened a bottle of spirits and set out a glass. He had just taken a drink when one of his guards called out that Skaikru was at the door. Ah, so the Chancellor had come to his senses, he thought, as he strode to the door. Roan tugged it open and then blinked in surprise. 

“Clarke Griffin. This is unexpected.” he murmured as he stepped back and allowed her to enter. Her energy was buzzing and hard to be around if he were honest, now that it was not blurred with a crowd of others. The rumours were indeed true and it was one more advantage he could press. 

“I need to talk to you.” she started in that forthright manner which he found so grating. He forced a look of interest and respect onto his features so as not to tip his hand just yet and gestured for the young woman to speak. She opened her mouth and then closed it again. Over and over she seemed to be floundering like a fish dying on land. 

Roan stepped forward and wrapped a rough hand around the nape of her neck, turning her slightly to pin her back against the wall. She was not a tall woman and her curves were voluptuous despite her petite height. He looked down into her wide blue eyes and murmured, “You know my plan is the right one. I know you know. You can take her home with you, befriend her and make her understand to be one of you. If you wish to show your courage, offer yourself as well as my submissive and that other girl. You would be the only true sacrifice.” He murmured, deliberately leaning in and crowding Clarke. His energy boiled into hers. It was not an attempt to soothe or comfort but rather to control. 

“What about my people?” she protested quietly. 

“This is how we save the rest of your people. You can’t go another winter without learning how to trade with your neighbours. Azgeda stands ready. I know some of your people have reason to judge us harshly but the ground is a harsh place. We do more than survive. Don’t you want that for your own people?” Roan murmured, bending low enough now to drag his whiskered cheek along the ivory curve of her face. She let out a little whimper and he knew then that he had her. 

Clarke’s small hand pressed against his chest, trying to push him back but he was not dissuaded. He trailed the fingertips of his other hand along the slim column of her throat before continuing on to caress the curve of her breast. The submissive in his arms gasped and pushed harder against him. 

Squeezing the nape of her neck roughly enough to make her gasp and then whimper, he pulled her up to meet his eyes, “Silence, girl.” he snarled roughly. “Now nod. You will take my girl with you when you return to where you are staying.” 

Clarke met his eyes and flinched at the hard look in the Dominant’s gaze. She swallowed and opened her mouth to speak. He squeezed that fragile neck and she nodded, compulsively, and he loosened his grip accordingly. “See, it isn’t so hard to be a good girl. Don’t you want to be a good girl, Clarke? Your people need saving and your agreement today is the tough choice no one wants to bear. So bear it. The weight of it. You’ve already sent one boy to his death. Do you want to watch the rest of them slowly starve?” 

Tears pooled in those bright eyes and Roan smiled, just for a moment revealing his true nature to the submissive, before masking once again. “Let me take care of you.” he murmured as his hand pressed between her thighs. Roan was aware that Lexa kom Trikru was drawn to this little submissive. It was the only explanation that allowed for her absurd kindnesses and generosity toward this girl and her people. Roan relished the idea of fucking Clarke’s holes before Lexa got the chance. He may not be a Natblida and therefore unable to claim the throne or the Flame, but this was one thing he could leave his mark upon. 

He released his hold on her and stepped back, “Strip.” he ordered brusquely. 

Clarke’s hands began to pluck at the fastenings before she paused. “Ummm … isn’t there supposed to be a … um, agreed stop word and limits. Aren’t there limits?” 

Well shit. Someone had been educating the little fools but not well enough. Clarke seemed uncertain and he decided to press. He scoffed, “You have earned neither from me. You will do as you are told, Clarke Griffin kom Skaikru, or suffer the indignation of watching your people starve another year.” 

Tears welled in her bright eyes, slipping down her cheeks, but the clothes peeled off, not stopping until all of it was piled on the floor above her unlaced boots. He was right about her body, she had incredible curves, including a rather fine ass that she seemed to hide under frumpy, draped clothing. Such a shame. 

“Kneel.” he ordered, clicking his fingers and pointing at his feet. She sank into position but there was still a tendency to hesitate. Unacceptable. His fingertips plucked over his waistband, unbuttoning his trousers, before reaching between and withdrawing his cock. Cupping the back of her small head, he brushed his cock against her lips and pressed forward. He didn’t stop, forcing his cock deep into her throat. He heard her gag and clenched his hand into her hair to force her to stay still. When her eyes widened, he withdrew enough to allow the young woman to gasp for air. Before she had completely recovered, he pressed in again. By the third time, her small fists beat against his thighs. 

Laughing, he finally released her, letting her collapse to the ground and try to recover, gasping and gagging. Placing a foot on her ass, he kicked hard enough to send her to the ground. “Crawl to the bedroom. Now.” he snarled. Clarke glanced up apprehensively. “I … I don’t want to … this isn’t what I ... “ she stammered. 

Roan bent just low enough to apply a harsh slap to her flushed cheek. She gasped. He knew ordinarily she would fight him but given her lack of proper submission, she didn’t have the wherewithal to stop him. She had just starved herself to the point where she was unable to protest, even when she should. So she crawled, tears dripping down her face and splashing to the floor. He followed her, stripping his clothing as he walked. 

“Kneel on the bed, Clarke.” he ordered as he folded his belt into one hand, tucking the buckle into his palm as a sign of generosity. He barely waited until she was in position before applying a harsh strike across the curve of her ass. She cried out, rising up to press her hands to her round ass. Exactly as he wanted as his hand flew and struck across her full breasts. Clarke screamed. 

“Warmup is over, you filthy slut.” he snarled, “Back onto your hands and knees. Ass up. You get to move when I say you do and not before.” Roan was enjoying himself thoroughly as the girl sobbed but resumed the position. The belt swung a few times, leaving a series of livid lines over the curve of her fine ass. Reaching forward he pushed Clarke’s knees further apart. “There you go. Isn’t that better?” he murmured soothingly as he brushed his hand up and down her slender back as she sobbed. Then the belt swung again, catching her between her thighs. She collapsed on the mattress and Roan snarled, “Back up! Now!” 

“No … please. I can’t. It’s too much.” Clarke started to beg but Roan stepped back and brought down the belt again and again, striking the submissive’s ass and thighs until his temper finally cooled and his arm grew tired. Only then did he toss the belt to the ground. 

Roan flipped her over and ran his hands up and down over her sobbing frame. She flinched as the prickly cover of the bedspread tormented her ass and thighs. Roan leaned over her and whispered. “Lexa will never want you now. Filthy girl. Getting fucked like the trash you are. You are worthless, disgusting, stupid girl. You cling to your pride and let your people die out of an erroneous assumption that your way is the only right way. You are garbage your own people threw away and I don’t blame them.” 

As he spoke, he nudged her thighs apart and as he repeated, “No one will ever want you now, slut.” he pushed into her core roughly. She bucked under him, tears pouring and her chest racked with sobs. He guided one of her small hands between her thighs and let her toy with her own clit as he fucked her. She bounced under him for he was not concerned with her comfort at this moment. “Can’t you even cum, little trash girl? Hmm… useless. You’re fucking useless.” 

Clarke shook her head violently but there were no words to find as she screamed out her pleasure, despite herself. He fucked into her, setting a bruising pace, and finally he fell off rhythm and felt that familiar tingle of pleasure along his spine. He pulled out and came over the girl, splashing ropey shots of cum over her face and breasts. 

He breathed hard, panting as he fought to restore himself, before murmuring to the finally quite submissive, “That’s a good girl, Clarke. You played the game well.” he praised. He hated providing afters but even he had the sense it was necessary in this case. Roan obtained a soft wet cloth and washed down the submissive, perhaps a little roughly before wrapping her in a blanket and tucking her under the covers. Her gaze was far away and he wondered briefly if she had hit subspace. He hoped not for he had no patience for dealing with the subsequent drop. Roan brushed a kiss over forehead and murmured, “Get some sleep for the night. Tomorrow we’ll talk logistics about my slave joining your people in Arkadia. We have agreed to the plan, yes? Of course yes.” He kissed her again, a soft press on dark pink lips, “Remember Lexa will never want you now. The best thing you can do is protect your people.” 


	8. beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **  
> _In which some being the journey to healing while others make other choices._  
>  **
> 
> _Trigger Warning for references to sexual assault. Please head the warnings if this is uncomfortable or triggering for you._

**_Emori_ **

Emori’s body was taut with anxiety as she climbed into the sleigh. Built for a man of Gustus’ size, the mode of transportation dwarfed the petite woman as she tugged the furs around herself. Once settled she nodded up at the driver who turned to offer the submissive a reassuring smile before he released the brake and gave the reins a light slap. The team of horses began their long journey.

Gustus had left her in his home almost two weeks ago. She had known it would take a few days before he returned but her heart had plummeted when the sleigh returned with no one inside. Just the driver with a message. She couldn’t read it, staring at the scrawled words with a weight buried in her chest. Were they all gone? Even the Hefa? She had been terrified as she ran the message in for one of his staff to review. 

The only one who had the time was the elderly cook who propped ancient and smudged opticals on her face and peered at the Hefa’s scrawl. _“Oh yes, dear … sit yourself down and drink your tea. I’ll just have a look here.”_ She spoke her Trig imperiously, as fancy as any Flamekeeper she had ever met. Dutifully Emori had sipped from her mug but tasted nothing. She stared, trying to hold herself still, as she waited for the elderly woman to relay the words. 

_“I have all four of them including Emori’s John.”_ the cook read out and then smiled at Emori. _“Well isn’t that lovely news. Let’s keep going shall we? He’s not in good shape. Oh dear. That is expected though, hmmm? Now, send Emori to the Healer House at Nover. Her man needs her.”_ The woman then set down the paper and smiled down at Emori, _“That’s all it says, my dear. We’ll ask Driver to leave at first light. I’ll go speak to him right now and give him some cake to take to his family to make up for sending him away again so soon. You go pack up your things, Emori, and some of those items of clothing we’ve been preparing. You know that the bitch Queen of the North won’t have sent them with so much as a stitch between the lot of them. I’ll make up some food parcels. I know the cook at the Nover Healer’s House and frankly the woman wouldn’t know flavour if it slapped her like a fish.”_

Emori hated to say it but the cook’s words were strangely reassuring. It was easy to understand why the Hefa kept such a salty and bossy woman around to manage his house. She had taken Emori under her wing immediately, talking about how when John and the others were living here as if it were a forgone conclusion instead of only a possibility. She had quickly stood up and nodded at the elderly woman, eager to follow the plan she had laid out. 

Unfortunately, as the Driver popped his head in to give his regards, he advised both of them that he had a storm at his back the whole journey and it wasn’t likely they would be able to leave in the morning. Emori tried to get further details from him but the tight-lipped man had shared nothing of merit. So she packed and repacked throughout the night. She thought she would never sleep but had eventually passed out in front of the fire, surrounded by small piles of clothing and packed carryalls. 

In the morning, she had tugged back the curtains to reveal the wall of pure white of snow. You couldn’t see your hand in front of your face, much less follow a path toward Nover. They were stuck. The storm raged for three days and it took them another week to clear a path such that the sleigh could travel again. Emori flitted about the large house in such a fit of nervous energy that the old cook gave her perpetual cleaning projects just to keep her hands busy. The house shone, she was exhausted and now, finally, after nine horrible days of waiting, her journey was undertaken once again. 

She slept a good portion of the day of travel, the nervous energy that had kept her awake for days finally dissipating now that she knew she would get to see John again. If he was still alive. No, he had to be. He was a survivor, just like her, and she would hold him again. She had to believe it. The sun was just beginning to set as the sleigh crossed the frozen river with the Healer House of Nover rising just beyond the other shore. They were lucky it was winter as the regular road was a twisty, winding affair that would have added hours to her day of travel. Instead they could use the frozen river to shorten their journey. 

Emori threw herself out of the sleigh the second it came to a stop and ran toward the front door as fast as her feet could carry her. Pushing it open she was struck by a wall of warmth and was met by a healer who insisted she take off her boots and jacket before going any further. Only then did he direct her toward the hall and tell her to go to the very end. She wanted to run but tried to hold on to a little of her dignity as she hurried through the hall toward the room to which she had been directed. The entry was an archway and a fire flickered merrily in the fireplace. She looked around the room but she heard his voice before she saw him. 

“Emori!” It was him and she spun around to see John coming toward her. There was a bandage over one eye but the other was clear and bright. His face was swollen and beneath that he looked far too thin. He wasn’t a big man to start with so it hurt her heart to know that he looked like this after almost two weeks of eating properly. She wrapped her arms around him and felt him groan as she whispered, “John! Oh John. I’m so sorry.” 

She squeezed and he did the same. Finally she loosened her hold slightly and peeled back just enough to run her gaze over his face. “Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to … I just …” she said a little breathlessly. 

“It’s fine, it’s good. I’ve missed you so much. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” John replied as he wrapped his arms around her again, but this hold was a little more careful. Emori didn’t move again, just stood there in John’s arms and breathed him in. It was him, under the smell of cleaner and medicines, there was that delicious scent of her John. 

She let her eyes fall closed and savoured it and him. She didn’t open them again until she heard someone clear their throat. Emori smiled, recognizing him already, before opening her eyes. “Hello Hefa.” 

“Hello Emori.” He greeted, “It is time for John to go lay down again. Come, you look like you could use the rest too. I’ll put you both to bed.” Emori flushed lightly before breaking her hold enough to see that John’s face was wan and he was clearly exhausted. She glanced back over at Gustus with worried eyes. 

“He’s on the mend. I’ll let him tell you as much as he wishes for now.” the Boudalankru King assured her as his hand stretched out to gesture toward the door. She kept her arm around John’s waist as they were led down the hall into a small room with three beds, side by side, separated by curtains. As was the tradition in Healer’s Houses, everything was a brilliant shade of white. The walls, the painted bed frames, the bedding were all a gleaming white but Nover was a prestigious home so the beds were comfortable and the rooms scrubbed to a high sheen of cleanliness. 

Gustus gave her a pair of trousers and a simple white shirt to put on and as she did so, she watched as he did just as he said, tucking John in and trailing a gentle hand over his mark in a soothing fashion. John did not protest. His fire had not been restored it seemed. Perhaps it too was healing. 

She stretched out next to John and couldn’t resist laying her hand on his shoulder while the other brushed his cheek just below the bandage. “Will it heal?” she asked softly. 

John’s nod was slight, “They are optimistic. The infection was quite bad apparently. Another day or two and …” He shrugged and then flinched as if the motion hurt. She swallowed hard before saying, “And the rest of your injuries?” 

“Healing. Slowly. They said it was amazing how the guards managed to avoid breaking anything. Still, everything was kind of on the verge of being done. Kidneys, heart, brain … shutting down I guess.” he explained. There was reluctance in his tone and she found herself leaning in to kiss his cheek in an effort to soothe him. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me.” she assured him quietly and she heard his breathing shake before growing calm again. After several minutes of silently laying together, she whispered, “You’re letting him touch you though? Hefa Gustus I mean? And ... and your mark?” 

When they began travelling together, she had been astonished at how little he understood of his designation. She kind of enjoyed being the teacher, going through the poses and the rules about stop words and safe Dominants - the ones who knew the Order of Priority. They scened as a set several times before she let him do it alone. She had explained to him then that the touch to the mark by a Dominant would centre him and help him heal from injuries. She had never thought it would be injuries on this scale but nonetheless. 

“Yeah.” her John acknowledged. “It’s hard sometimes but the collar she had me wear…” he choked for a moment, stumbling over his words. But he took a breath and continued, “the collar blocked it off. I didn’t realize how used to it I got until I couldn’t even touch it myself.” Emori nodded encouragingly but John’s eye flicked closed and he took a few slow and even breaths. 

“He sits with me and he does it. Lots. I think the others too but I … I don’t see them too much.” he whispered, his eye still closed and Emori stared at him as if wanting to memorize every plane of his face. There were fading bruises and swelling that had not receded, which meant two weeks ago he must have been much worse. She traced careful fingertips over his jaw and into his hair, stroking gently. They lay curled up together for so long that she felt herself drifting to sleep. 

Then he spoke again, “Emori?” 

Her eyes fluttered open and she glanced down at John, his cheek half resting on her shoulder. “Yeah?” 

“What are you giving him? To have him come get us?” John asked quietly. 

Emori pulled a ragged breath and cleared her throat. However, there were no secrets between them and he would know this truth soon enough. “A baby. I said I’d have a baby for him.” 

John glanced up, blinking that one perfect eye at her as he frowned and then flinched as if the motion of expressing disapproval caused physical pain. “So he’s our Dom permanently?” Emori didn’t have the heart in her to tell him that she would likely not survive the infant’s arrival so she nodded, “Yes. He’s our Dom now. We’re going to stay with him.” 

Her lover looked vaguely confused but seemed to accept this information. “Okay.” 

She let out the breath she had been holding and whispered back, “Okay. I love you John.” 

The voice was soft and sleepy as he replied, “Love you too, ‘Mori.” 

They had many battles to fight. John’s healing had only begun and Emori knew that in her bones but they were together again. That was all that mattered. He was alive, safe and soon they would go home together. 

For now, it was more than enough. 

**_Gustus_**

The Hefa walked back into the ward room to check on Emori and her man. To his relief, they were both sound asleep. He tucked the blankets around the pair so they were well covered and then left them to it. The sleep would do John some good - there was much healing to be found in genuine rest. He could only imagine how the delay caused by the storm had been torment for the submissive woman. Still, he wasn’t as sorry as he ought to be.

The first week had been touch and go for John. The untreated injuries had literally made several healers physically ill as they worked to save his life. At first they had proposed merely removing the submissive’s eye and the Hefa had to put his foot down and insist they try to save it. It had not been a well-received demand. Now, it appeared likely that he had been right, although the demand had made their jobs much harder. 

The litany of injuries had been repulsive to the Dominant. He would never have treated his worst enemy in such a manner. Although John seemed to bear the worst of it, the other three were not considerably better. All of them were suffering profound injuries and trauma, exacerbated by dehydration and starvation. The Healers questioned again and again how they were still living. Then the truth came out of an Azgeda woman, likely a slave, who had been aiding them. She had been providing food and water to them as well as some emotional comfort. They did not know her name but the one called Bellamy referred to her as “Flowers” which was as good a name as any, Gustus supposed. 

Gustus knew he should return to his duties but couldn’t fathom leaving a trio of submissives without a well-trained Dominant at this time. John was clearly uncomfortable but he, at least, accepted the brush of his hand against the nape of his neck, even going so far as to seek him out or tip himself forward in such a way as to invite the caress. Otherwise the boy loathed being touched. He didn’t want to be hugged or caressed. If Gustus didn’t have his hand on the nape of the boy’s neck, John sat as far from him as he could without giving offense. 

The girl was the first to ask what he was doing. He would have been confused but he had recently received a lengthy missive from Anya indicating how poorly Skaikru were trained in the protocols of their designation. So he murmured quietly, “By placing my hand there, it is satisfying your need to submit. It is reciprocal. My energy meets yours and soothes it. It is a fairly innocuous thing, the first one we teach our young Dominants after their marks come in, and they often practice on their younger siblings because it helps children as well. It helps to regulate your energy, your body temperature and will aid in your healing.” He paused and waited to see if she had questions but she was silent, as if processing, “Would you like to try?” 

She was so uncertain that it hurt his heart and he had to stifle his pride at the rejection that accompanied the feeling. She was a broken girl who had no idea what she needed to feel well again. A bandage would not heal this wound and no medicine they fed her would satiate her needs as much as his hand laid just there. She crept over at long last and knelt by his feet, so far from him that he had to strain a little to touch her. She flinched and then held resolutely still. It took several minutes before he saw her body relax and breathe into it. 

What surprised him more was looking up and seeing Bellamy watch him with fascination. It was the first time the emaciated Dominant looked interested in much of anything after arrival. His recovery was taking a long time and it worried him to see such little interest from Bellamy. They were all so damaged that Gustus was not persuaded they would be whole again. 

“That helps?” he asked quietly. Gustus just nodded, “They don’t teach you much about your marks do they?” Bellamy had lifted a hand to rub roughly at the nape of his neck. “Not really. They come in when we hit puberty and we were told they were relics from our time on Earth. I think everyone kind of forgot about them. Sort of like a strange freckle we all get.” 

Gustus flashed a smile at the young man for the description of something as essential as one’s designation being described as a freckle might have been the funniest thing he had ever heard, “So when you are well, we will have lessons. You aren’t that much older than our young ones just learning of their designations officially. And you will be able to help the others be well too.” He forced more positivity into his voice than he truly felt. Harper had shifted forward and now had her head on his knee and her mark no longer burned into his palm as though he were holding a hot ember. 

The one known as Nathan Miller had been stoic for so long that Gustus began to worry he was closing himself up completely. That sounded not too bad, he imagined, except that a walled off submissive would eventually become so dysregulated and overwrought that they would allow anything to happen to them in order to slake their needs. It was not positive. His body healed slowly but he avoided the others and Gustus found the young man off on his own, hiding in corners. 

“I met your father.” Gustus finally admitted. It was the first time the young man looked at him. 

“My dad?” the submissive whispered. 

“He asked me to help you. I told him I could not.” the Hefa confessed. 

“But you did … You came and we’re here. Murphy is ... “ Then he paused, biting his lip uncertainly before turning cautious eyes over at the large Dominant. 

“Does this mean you are going to kill me?” he asked so quietly that Gustus wasn’t sure he heard him correctly. 

“No, it means I am a selfish man who had to be bribed by a beautiful girl to do the right thing. You do have to understand though … she always has victims like you, and your friends. It is why we stand against her. We could never permit her to rule anything more than Azgeda.” Gustus explained honestly. The young Nathan Miller seemed to absorb these words. 

“We had to save them though? Our people. They were in Azgeda territory.” 

Gustus nodded, “Of course. Your leaders should have negotiated for entry to collect their people.” 

“What!” Nathan sat up in some shock and then groaned as the pain of healing bruises pulled at his shoulders. 

“Of course, according to the treaties she is required to negotiate for rescue of …” he started and then looked over at the astonished boy. “And your leaders did not know.” He scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed, “I’m sorry, Nathan. You paid a heavy toll for a hard lesson.” 

“Wait wait … so the Chancellor could have requested to go into their land for a rescue operation. That’s what you are saying.” Nathan repeated. 

“Correct.” Gustus confirmed with a nod. 

“And she had to negotiate.” he murmured quietly. 

“Also correct. It is an old treaty, meant to deal with lost cattle, children, equipment blown away in the wind or of course people who end up off course due to storms. All Leaders have to permit such an entry, although the fine is quite high if it is found to be deliberate. If genuinely an accident, the fine is pretty small.” he explained. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Nathan burst out bitterly. Gustus laughed despite himself and for the first time since arriving, the submissive’s face warmed to a soft laugh, “What complete bullshit.” Then his head snapped to Gustus again, “So how long are you keeping us?” 

Gustus shrugged, “Until the Conclave at least. I hope to have you all well, or as well as you can be, by then. To be fair though, just you, Harper and Bellamy. I’m keeping the one you call Murphy. He will remain with me so long as Emori does.” 

Nathan Miller nodded, “Emori is the one who negotiated for us.” 

“This is true. She is the reason I went. Just so you understand though, as long as you with me, I will never allow anyone to hurt you. You are safe with me, even from me.” Gustus reassured Nathan quietly and was about to speak further when a small face appeared in the entryway to the room. 

“That girl you were waiting for is here.” the healer explained and then turned away. Gustus had left the room to find Emori and John wrapped around one another. His heart lifted. Emori had her man again and if anyone could help John find a reason to carry on, he suspected it was this girl who was stubborn enough to travel by herself to his people and his land to beg for his life. 

Maybe there could be a different kind of whole for them. If so, he would do all within his power to get them to that point. Perhaps at the Conclave, David Miller, the man who had pleaded for his son’s life would get to hold him again. 

He could only hold out his hand and hoped they grasped it. The rest was up to them now. 

**_Echo_**

Her new name was Emily Jacobs. Emily. It did not appeal but she didn’t protest the new designation either. She had worn a dozen names over her lifetime and it scarcely mattered that this was the one she would bear as her final days were marked out. The little blonde submissive known as Clarke was solemn and seemed uncomfortable. Now that was a familiar feeling, especially when Roan had his hands on you. Pain was a spice to him and a meal to every one of his partners. Echo glanced around the interior of the vehicle.

The man known as Pike was watching her again and there was something in her eyes that made her aware that in another life he would have been proud to serve in Ontari’s Court. She hoped she would not be required to spend much time with him, but if she recalled correctly Arkadia was not large enough for her to avoid him completely. 

She sighed softly when the boy seated to her left started to talk. He had dark eyes, soft floppy strands that tended to fall into his eyes and a cheerful manner. He was trying to give her a rundown history of the Ark and the stations. They were more rigid in their organization than any community of which she had ever heard. She started to repeat the words as if trying to commit them to memory. 

“So how many were there again?” 

The boy beamed. “Well, Emily.” he tried out her name and then laughed. Despite herself she found a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “There were originally thirteen and …” 

“Enough!” Snarled Pike and the boy’s smile faded. He seemed apprehensive of the other man and she assumed there was some history there and she was curious about it. She would have to ask the boy about it later. 

“What’s your name?” she asked the boy quietly. His gaze flipped to hers again and a smile warmed his face again. 

“Jasper Jordan at your service. Do you know one of your people threw a spear through my chest? I lived though.” he stated almost cheerfully. 

“Well it wasn’t me.” She stated firmly. 

“You didn’t spear anyone?” 

“No I have. I just wouldn’t have let you live.” Echo replied and then smirked. Jasper roared with laughter and she had to admit she liked him. These Skaikru were all idiots but they could be kind of charming, well … her gaze flicked back to Pike and away again, most of them anyway. 

Pike opened his mouth and the Chancellor interrupted before he could speak. 

“Jasper. I expect you to show her around. Teach her what you know, get Monty and Raven to do the same. We need her prepared by the Conclave. Remember that Lexa knows Clarke so she won’t be fooled if Emily doesn’t perform up to standards.” the Chancellor instructed. 

To Echo’s surprise, Jasper nodded eagerly at the instruction and then whispered, “Could you maybe teach me how to fight a bit? You know the way you guys do?” 

The submissive had been watching Clarke’s face when Lexa was mentioned and was intrigued by the flash of guilt and pain on her face. What the fuck had Roan done now? She glanced back at Jasper and nodded, “Yeah, I can do that but we’ll have to train somewhere we can’t be seen from outside.” 

Jasper beamed at her once again and she found herself hoping this boy survived whatever was to come. He went back to his explanation of the unification of the stations into one large station and the destruction of one of them. It was interesting to note that Skaikru was capable of being as ruthless as any Clan leader should the situation call for it. She enjoyed the lessons because Jasper was an engaging speaker and didn’t seem to mind her questions. Eventually he fell silent for a while and Echo started to nod off when the vehicle slowed to a stop. 

Her eyes flew wide as she watched the gates to Arkadia slowly open and she was inside. The game was on in earnest and she swallowed an unexpected lump that had formed in her throat. The kinder these people were, the harder it was to forget the four members of their people that she knew were likely dead or dying. Sighing softly, she climbed out of the metal contraption and felt better to have her feet on the ground again. 

Within the week, Echo had come to the realization that Pike would indeed fit in well with Azgeda. No matter how she tried to avoid him, he always seemed to be where she was with greedy grasping hands. She ached to cut them from his body but could not risk her position with these people. As if aware he had the leverage, he pressed the advantage. 

She surrounded herself with the others who were friendly to her. Arkadia seemed divided upon a single divisive point - bargain with the grounders or slay them all. The latter seemed rather ambitious, no matter how good their weapons happened to be. There were tens of thousands of people in Azgeda. Did they really think they had weapons enough to wipe them out? That seemed ridiculous to Echo but she had long mastered the skill of keeping such thoughts out of her expression, much less giving them voice. 

The greater issue appeared to be their lack of regulation in their biological needs. The submissives were weepy or dramatic. The Dominants were unstable and erratic. The ones who were getting their needs met seemed almost to be doing it by accident. It was disconcerting but again, she tried to avoid any group featuring too many of their Dominants and she was usually well. Too many of their Dominants and she could feel her own emotions start to pitch and sway in the volatile tide of energy. It was suffocating. 

She made a point of befriending the girl known as Raven, who was clever and had already greatly offended the Hefa of Boudalankru. She seemed to regret her actions and kept asking Echo about his question about discipline and Skaikru approval. She didn’t understand it and although Echo could have explained the older Dominant’s thought process on it, she could see this girl would rather continue to believe she was in the right. So she stayed silent. Raven explained things well and between her and the pair of young Dominants, Jasper and his friend, Monty Green, she felt she was catching up. It was a little confusing at times as they seemed to not have a refined grasp on why their people did things in certain ways. She supposed with no other people, no other societies with which they could compare themselves for nearly a century had left them without a concrete analysis as to the rationale behind their beliefs or protocols. 

Echo thought she was doing well until Monty mentioned Harper. It came out of the blue, just in passing, and she nearly gasped in recollection. Harper - that sweet and feisty girl - would be long gone by now and that thought hurt. Echo didn’t have many friends, her work didn’t allow for it, but she was confident in another life that she and Harper would have been true friends to one another. Monty was clearly missing her and talked about when she would return to him. When that happened he planned to court her, if she would allow it. Echo could see that this kind boy would have been a loving Dominant. Poor Harper never got the chance and it took all of her willpower not to tell him of the girl’s likely passing. 

She excused herself claiming a headache and a need for rest. Distracted, she didn’t notice the man following her. She would have cause to regret this failure. As she stepped into her small assigned quarters, she felt a hand at her back, shoving her inside. She cursed herself for not being on guard. She knew better! She turned to find Pike standing there before her. She opened her mouth to speak and he backhanded her before she had a chance to use her voice. 

Echo reeled backward but this was not the first time she had been struck without cause so she did not feign surprise or cover the mark with her own hand. Instead, she stared at him, resolute and cautious. His Dominant energy bounced over the room like a ball heated in the fire and any second it might burn her. 

“Not one word, _Grounder whore_.” he snarled at her. Having grown up with Ontari and Roan, he would have to try a little harder than that if he wanted to offend her with an insult. 

Her expression did not change as she replied, “Is there something you want, Sir?” Her words were firm but polite, careful not to antagonize him but refusing to cower either. Shrinking in terror would only incite further unjustified aggression. This was how she survived and would continue to do so. He didn’t speak to her, instead, reaching a rough hand forward to press between her thighs, fondling her sex through the thin fabric of her trousers roughly. She kept her expression neutral and let him have his pleasure. The sooner it ended, the better. 

Finding her lacking, he sneered again. “Get on your knees, slut.” he barked at her. Echo wasn’t sure that was the prudent move so she met his eyes carefully, “Sir, I don’t think this is appropriate. I am here to do a job and not to serve you. You can look to your own people for that.” 

When he lifted a hand again, she decided enough was enough. Diplomacy was not working so she would do it these people’s way. Then she slammed her fist into his face and turned on her side, grabbing his arm and tossed him through the door that had, fortunately, just opened. 

It was Jasper and he was bowled over by the large male coming at him. “The hell!” he muttered. 

“Sorry Jasper.” She murmured but was not at all unhappy he was there. She reached for his hand and tugged him into her room quickly, hastily closing the door behind her. She would probably pay harshly later for this bit of defiance but damn did it feel good. 

“Are you okay?” Jasper whispered, gesturing toward her marked face. Frankly she had forgotten about the slap. Rubbing a hand over her cheek, she nodded, “Yeah. Yeah I’m fine.” she assured softly. Then she paused, looking over at the Dominant. “Why are you here?” she asked cautiously. 

“Oh … oh not for that. Ummm … you left when Monty mentioned Harper. You … you know her don’t you?” Jasper asked quietly. Damn it. This boy was more observant than she had given him credit for and now she had to deal with this unfortunate attachment she had formed. 

She swallowed and didn’t answer. Jasper took that for a yes and slumped into a seated position, his back resting against the bunk. “Is she still alive?” he asked. 

“I don’t know.” she offered quietly. 

“Probably though?” 

Echo considered and shook her head, indicating it was unlikely but unwilling to give this thought a voice. 

“What about Miller and Blake?” he continued and Echo couldn’t hold his gaze any longer, letting her eyes fall to the floor. 

“Damnit.” Jasper whispered. 

“Yeah.” she affirmed with a nod. 

“Was it quick?” 

Her head shook again slightly but her gaze remained downcast until she heard it, a soft sob. Her eyes flew up to the Dominant’s face and she found herself crawling forward and wrapping her arms around the slender young man. She hugged him in a way she could not with the others - for they had been too bruised, too damaged, too caged to allow for such things. He cried for a while, unapologetic and she felt a surprising respect for a man who could feel such grief over the loss of his friends and express it openly. 

“Bellamy kept us alive. Fucked it up a bunch but he…” Jasper swallowed before continuing, “He tried.” That thought made Echo smile. 

“I always wondered what crime Miller committed. He seemed so … gentle.” It hurt to talk of him in the past tense but at the same time, it felt really wonderful to talk of him at all. 

“Thief. Pickpocket to be specific. Would have gotten away with it too but he got busted with some contraband and there was no other way he could have gotten it.” Jasper explained. Echo laughed at that explanation. 

“I wish I could have done more for them.” she confessed quietly. 

“I’m glad you were there for them. Thanks E.” Jasper replied. He had taken to calling her that, a way of using her fake name and her real name all at once. She liked him for it. “I won’t tell the others. Maybe one day, when this is long over but not while you’re here. I won’t risk that for you. I promise.” 

“Thanks Jasper. Seriously. Thank you.” Echo replied softly and watched as the young Dominant rose to his feet and straightened before pulling open the door and peering out into the hall. 

“No need for thanks E. That’s what friends are for. See you at chow time.” Jasper replied, although his voice was too sad for there to be much of his typical humour in the words. 

Echo swallowed around an unexpected feeling of weight in her chest. Friends. Was this what it meant to have real friends? At least this one would live. For a while longer at least. Fucking Skaikru. They were incredibly annoying and yet, horribly endearing all at the same time. 

Her feeling of security fled the next day when she saw Pike across the mess hall where Skaikru tended to dine. He was watching her with intentions and she knew exactly what those intentions were. She was exhausted by the rough cruelties of men who felt entitled to her body, her energy, and her life. 

Monty and Jasper stopped at her side and followed her gaze to Pike. 

“Maybe you should stay with us for a bit, E?” Jasper murmured and Monty nodded in agreement and continued his friend’s thought, “Just in case.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read my twisted tale. I hope you continue to find it engaging. There is much drama still to come. Comments, as always, are appreciated. Thank you to my beta reader for her patience, support and editing skills. You are fantastic! Have a great day everyone!


	9. the twisted path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_In which Clarke starts her healing journey and the others continue on theirs._ **
> 
> _Trigger warnings for references to violence, abuse, sexual assault, trauma, and allusions to ptsd and suicidal ideation. Please heed the trigger warning_

**_Niylah_ **

Niylah fiddled with a small display of knives as she watched her potential customers look through the trading post’s offerings. They were the best post this side of Polis and she was quite proud of the work she and her parents had done. Trading posts were scattered across the Clans and were considered safe zones. If one wanted to fight, one had to do so at least fifty metres away from their staked grounds. It was an old treaty that allowed bargains to be made and supplies acquired without interference. Her father’s father had started this post and it was where he had met the Azgeda woman that he would make his claim. They had three children but sadly only Niylah survived to adulthood. 

Niylah, a young Domme herself, loved her life. She enjoyed assisting the customers, making the trades and even serving the occasional drink or meal to a traveller in order to hear their tales. No one had as interesting a story to tell as the members of Skaikru. To be honest, she might be a little obsessed, particularly with one specific member of that Clan. Unfortunately, the object of her interest seemed to barely note her existence, other than as a helpful local ‘grounder’. What a stupid nickname - grounder. She was not made of earth after all! Ridiculous. 

As if thinking of them had brought them to her door, a small group from Arkadia wandered into the building. She closed the knife case and flipped the latch. Walking around the counter, she smiled at these new customers. “Good day. Are you looking for something in particular?” While the Clans wouldn’t engage in trade with Skaikru, smaller trades at such Trading Posts were permitted. 

The other shook their heads but Clarke moved over to stand next to her. She had met the pretty blonde numerous times but there was something different this time, some fire within her seemed to be extinguished. “Come Clarke. I have a new batch of mead and you will like this one. It is not too sweet.” she invited warmly and tugged her toward the corner of the expansive room where a small bar was set up. She poured the submissive a half measure and let her sip. 

“You seem unlike yourself, Clarke.” she invited softly, “What seems to be troubling you?” 

The tears welled before the submissive stubbornly blinked them away without a single one trickling down her pink cheeks. “I’m fine. Just a challenging meeting in Polis.” 

“Oh … may I ask who you were meeting?” Niylah asked carefully. Clarke swallowed so hard that the Domme could hear it and just shook her head before draining the glass. Niylah topped it up again and asked, “Have you given more thought to the Conclave? I know it is a few months away but the days will pass quickly. Your people….” 

Clarke stood up so swiftly that she knocked over the stool upon which she was sitting. Niylah blinked in surprise. “I don’t know. People are making decisions and doing things but I don’t know what’s right any more. Indra won’t even speak with us anymore so Octavia is angry and grieving now for both Lincoln and her brother.” Her voice broke over this last word. 

Niylah reached out a hand and wrapped it over Clarke’s roughened one. It felt small beneath her own. “I know you miss him too. He’s your friend.” When she made contact with Clarke’s skin, she felt the energy smash through her like she had been punched. 

“Clarke, you remembered what I told you about limits right?” she asked carefully. Clarke’s eyes snapped to hers and the tears were back but this time they escaped those bright eyes to trickle down her cheeks. 

“He said I hadn’t earned that yet.” Niylah gasped at these words. She circled the bar again to pull the submissive into a gentle hug, running her hands over the fair-haired girl’s back. However, she could see there were other customers needing assistance. 

“Clarke, I want to talk to you but for now, I want you to go into my room. You remember where that is, don’t you?” The Dominant instructed firmly and felt Clarke nod. This pliant girl was unlike the sparky submissive she had met before. “Just lay down on the bed and try to get some rest. I’ll come after my parents come back from their hunting trip.” She knew something was very wrong when Clarke just nodded and followed the instructions with no sassy reply or push-back. Hmmm… this was not good. 

The afternoon was unexpectedly busy. The rest of Skaikru came and went, along with a few other traders, bringing in goods and picking up the items they had requested. It was a good day and when her parents returned with a deer and in excellent spirits, she was ready to retreat to her private space. After scrubbing up, she walked through to her bedroom and found Clarke curled up on her bed, boots and jacket on the ground. Niylah tidied her things away and crept into bed. Brushing back the fair hair, she waited until the submissive’s eyes fluttered open. 

“Hello, Clarke.” She whispered before dusting a soft kiss over the submissive’s forehead. “Are you feeling better?” 

Clarke nodded sleepily and snuggled into Niylah’s shoulder. With a gentle hand, she wove her hand under silky strands to tease a fingertip over the submissive’s mark. Clarke let out a soft gasp and pressed herself closer. “You’re a good girl.” 

“No.” Clarke objected and the Dominant frowned and looked down at her, “What?” 

“I’m dirty. No one will want me now and I got one of my people killed and … and…” the tears started to pour and Niylah’s arms tightened around the submissive, letting the other woman cry out her grief and pain on her shoulder. When the tears finally abated, Niylah slipped from the bed and obtained a washcloth and a bowl of heated water. With gentle hands, she proceeded to bathe the other woman until she was soft and pliant in her bed once again. 

“There you go. I won’t say you and your people didn’t make mistakes. You all did but the fault does not rely solely on you. All of your leaders struggled with how to live and work with the Clans. I think you are all just used to having it your way. That is not possible on the ground. Not even Azgeda gets it all their way.” Niylah started, although Clarke huffed out a sad laugh at her attempt at humour. 

“But you are not dirty and I am sorry anyone said that to you in order to cause you pain. You are a young woman just figuring out yourself, this world and how you fit into it. The responsibility does not lie solely on your shoulders. People are responsible for the decisions they made. You bear your share but you do not bear all of it. To do so implies your Dominants are too weak to feel the measure of responsibility. I will say one thing about Skaikru, your people are not weak.” 

Clarke’s lips curved at that. “No, I guess not, but …” 

“No!” Niylah interrupted. “There is no but here.” Clarke fell silent and looked over at the Dominant. 

“Why are you being so kind to me?” she asked quietly. 

“Well I like things that are interesting and you, Clarke, as well as your people are definitely that.” Niylah started and then laughed, “Plus, I thought perhaps you would put in a good word for me with one of the other Skaikru submissives.” 

Clarke’s mouth opened and then closed before she finally asked, “Who?” 

Niylah groaned and ran a hand over her face as she laid herself out on the bed and drew the submissive into a gentle embrace, “Kara Cooper.” Clarke rested her chin on Niylah’s shoulder. “Oh so not me?” she teased. Now there was the sparkle of the girl she knew. 

Niylah scoffed, “Even I cannot compete with the future Commander.” Clarke’s cheeks flamed red and she muttered, “She won’t want me now.” The words were so soft that if Clarke had not been pressed to her shoulder Niylah wasn’t at all sure she would have heard them. 

“You think that little of Lexa then?” The Dominant queried, a little facetiously. Clarke blinked up at her in surprise. 

“She’s a Heda and the future Commander.” Clarke protested softly. 

“Yes she is and I trust her with my life and with the lives of everyone that I love. Which means I trust her to see the truth of a person. You are clearly the object of her affections and if you think that anything other than you loving someone else is likely to change that, then perhaps you are right and you don’t deserve her.” Niylah stated firmly before continuing, “Just think about my words and get some rest. In a little while my parents will bring us something to eat. Tomorrow we have enough time to talk.” 

Clarke nodded against Niylah’s shoulder and the Dominant smirked as she tugged up the blankets to tuck them both in. She did enjoy spending time with Clarke. She was a strange and dramatic girl but she was certainly never dull. Niylah was almost asleep when she heard a soft whisper, “So Kara, huh?” Niylah started to laugh as her cheeks warmed to a dull rose colour, “She is fierce. I like fierce.” 

“Beautiful too?” Clarke commented. 

“That too.” Niylah conceded as Clarke giggled sleepily. 

**_Gustus_**

For several years prior to this adventure, Gustus had lived alone. His staff attended the house to take care of essential tasks such as cleaning and food preparation, but more often than not, if he was home, it was a quiet place. This could not be said any longer. Harper and Nathan had taken over one room. Emori and John had another. He had offered them a room each but these pairs preferred to stay together, although it was less romantic and more comfort for Nathan and Harper. The submissives slept upstairs where his bedroom and office were also located. On the other hand, Bellamy slept in a small bedroom on the first floor but Gustus found him passed out on the living room furniture more often than not. All of them struggled with sleep and with feeling confined.

The healing had been slow but the efforts had paid off. At least with respect to the physical healing. The rest was much slower. Now that he was no longer constantly medicated, John didn’t sleep unless Emori was there with him and even then, one could see the tension in every line of his body. It did not look particularly restful. Bellamy was a ghost. Harper’s shoulder was still healing from whatever way they had her bound and she still slept many hours of each day, rarely interacting with anyone, and then was unable to sleep at night. 

Gustus stopped by Nathan who was carefully stacking wood as if the placement of each piece was vital. “Come with me for a bit.” he instructed firmly and while Nathan glanced up at him apprehensively, he nodded and started to follow. Gustus pulled on his boots and jacket and waited until Nathan did the same. Then he escorted the submissive across the grounds to the building where the sleighs and other such equipment were kept. 

“Are we going somewhere, Sir?” the submissive asked cautiously, his glance flicking from Gustus and back to the home where the others were ensconced safely. Gustus just shook his head as he trudged through the snow. If Nathan were anyone else, he would have teased the submissive about having a little faith but none of his new additions had faith, not even Emori. He supposed it was understandable but it grated on a man accustomed to being well-respected. 

Gustus pulled open the door, let Nathan in and then closed it behind him. The air was cold, his breath coming in puffs of air condensed in the frosty temperatures. He walked with Nathan around the edge of the sleighs and equipment until they came to a cleared space. There were sparring sticks in stands, wraps, swords, and thick pads on the ground. Gustus stripped out of his jacket and boots, leaving them at the edge of the space before walking forward. He turned and waved for Nathan to join him. 

“Hands.” Gustus ordered crisply. Nathan blinked, hesitated and then slowly raised both hands, palms facing downward. The Dominant began to wrap each one slowly. “I’m not much for talking about how I feel about things. At least, not without hitting some things first. So your body is healing and healed enough I think to start training.” 

“You’re going to fight me?” Nathan asked worriedly but to be honest Gustus appreciated the doubt in his voice. 

“No. You are going to hit. I am going to help you with your form. If you are doing well, I’ll put on the pads and you can whack at me a little. I will not be hitting you.” Gustus explained and Nathan looked, for the first time since he arrived, curious. Good. Now that was what he had been hoping. 

“The staff I think first. It’ll help restore some of the strength that they stole from you.” the Hefa reached into a bin and pulled out a staff that was padded on each end. He passed it to Nathan and then met the younger man’s eyes, “We’re going to make sure no one takes anything from you again that you do not want to give. We start today.” That appeared to resonate with the submissive and his jaw tightened as he nodded in agreement. Gustus nodded back and then turned to pull out the practice dummies, one that was clipped to a rafter so it swung and another that was stationary and could be knocked down if hit hard enough. Nathan followed, standing in the middle of the padded area with the staff in hand, staring at it uncertainly. The boy knew how to fight like Skaikru and it was time to learn to fight like Gustus’ people. He adjusted the younger man’s hands with firm but gentle touches and then stepped back. 

He let Nathan get in a few blows, just to get comfortable with the motion and the staff, before holding up his hand to ask the younger man to stop. “All right. You have strength but you are losing power. Step in with your right foot and keep your shoulder up as you swing. Let it drop and you do not hit as hard, your opponent stays standing.” Gustus touched Nathan’s shoulder to indicate what he meant. For the first time since arriving, the boy did not flinch. To Gustus that was victory enough for one day but he would keep going until Nathan either called it or his energy flagged. 

“Good boy. Exactly like that. Now again.” He stated firmly as he stepped out of range. The next three blows were better but on the fourth, the stationary dummy fell over. Nathan beamed and Gustus nodded, “Excellent.” Just as suddenly as it began Nathan’s mood shifted and his strikes became erratic and messy. By the end he was merely pummelling the swinging dummy with his hands and then he screamed, again and again and again. He collapsed to his knees and buried his face in his hands. 

Gustus knelt beside him, waiting, letting him scream and rage and then weep. Nathan’s cheek came to rest on his lap at last, as his breathing slowly calmed. “Sometimes I just want it to be over. Sleep forever. Just done.” he confessed quietly. “Why? Why did they…” the question died before he could fully give it voice. 

“I don’t know, Nathan. I don’t.” Gustus whispered, his hand slowly stroking over Nathan’s head to caress the nape of his neck and then back again in a slow pattern. “I want you to stay. Not for me, although I would miss you. Not for your friends, although they would agree with me. But for you. Because you are wonderful, strong, beautiful and smart. You are a survivor. Life has so many good days ahead for you. As long as I am alive, you are welcome in my home but this is no cage. You are my family, not my prisoner.” 

Nathan released a soft gasp of air, “You only came for Murphy.” he replied, snuffling quietly. 

“I did. Emori’s bargain sent me to Azgeda but it did not bring you from Nover to Boudalan. It did not make you a place in my home. Those are yours and yours alone. I have no regrets.” Gustus returned sincerely. He didn’t lie, even if the truth was the less palatable option. 

“Thank you, Sir.” he whispered almost sleepily. 

“Thank you, Nathan.” 

“You should do this with Harper too.” the submissive suggested and then looked up as Gustus laughed. 

“And that is one of the reasons I am so fond of you, my boy. Yes, I will. Bellamy too. All of you will learn to fight. Hands. Swords. Knives. Staves. You will be as strong in body as you are in spirit. But her shoulder needs more time to heal I think. Soon though.” Gustus assured the younger man. “Now, it has grown dark outside. Shall we go get our dinner and settle in for the night?” 

It took another few weeks and Harper began to join them. In fact, it was Harper he found out here, alone, at any available opportunity. The rage in her filled up the room and while Gustus believed rage was better than despair, in the long run neither was healthy for the submissive to carry. 

Bellamy lurked, refusing overtures to train, but still curious and uncertain. Like a child that wanted to play with their friends but didn’t know how to join in. When they finally started working with the knives, Bellamy came to stand some distance away but remained fascinated by the scene. 

“The trick to working with knives is quite simple - do not cut yourself and the blade will go as your grip directs. A knife is a handy weapon but it is close contact, which means you have to be prepared to be ruthless and make someone bleed if necessary. It becomes a part of you and not separate from self, if that makes sense.” Gustus explained. 

“I want to try.” Harper demanded eagerly. She could be quite bossy when sparring and Gustus enjoyed seeing this side of the young and beautiful submissive. When she sparred, her cheeks grew rosy and her eyes sparkled. 

They were outside now, in a clear patch that they had put together, now that the weather was warmer. The earth was still muddy and the world was still shades of grey and brown more than the rich greens that would soon follow. Bellamy stood beside Nathan, watching as Gustus showed her how to grip the blade. 

“Now. Let us spar.” the older man invited and she agreed with an eager nod. She was a spry little creature and reminded him of Lexa kom Trikru as she fought, twisting and turning as she moved. He blocked her again and again but did not fight back. Not yet. This was training. That was until the blade flew too close to his shoulder and he grabbed her wrist instinctively to stop her forward movement. He saw the rage flash in her eyes and realized his error as she turned the knife and sliced under his chin, blood flowing from the slice. He had jerked his head up so it was not a fatal blow, although it easily could have been had he been less wary. A fool’s move on his part. He had gotten complacent and underestimated the girl. He cupped his chin and stepped back, although hot blood poured over his palm. 

Harper’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” she whispered, the knife falling from her hand and landing on the muddy earth. Bellamy was there, quite suddenly, his chin up, standing between Gustus and Harper. Now he understood the reason for Bellamy’s perpetual lurking. Unfortunately, he did not have time to discuss this protective side of the Dominant, one he hoped to encourage. Nathan stepped forward and wrapped a hand around Gustus’ arm. 

“Inside, Sir. I think this one is going to need stitches. Who does that here?” he gasped out a little urgently as he tried to pull the Hefa toward the house. 

Gustus grumbled out, “I’ll be fine, Nathan. You worry too much.” He wanted to play it off as just a scratch but as he sat at the kitchen table, waiting f or someone from the Healer’s House in the village to come up, they kept passing him a fresh pad to hold to his chin. Emori had brought a stack of them and was now hovering in the doorway. The scent of blood was too much for John and at Bellamy’s direction, he was in the other room, trying not to vomit. Harper paced with wide eyes, while Bellamy continued to watch him. Nathan and Emori stayed rather quiet in the face of the sudden shift in energy. He suspected Emori was quiet as she liked to make an assessment before doing much of anything. Nathan just wasn’t sure what to do so he had put on a pot of water to boil. 

The young healer burst into the room in a flurry of dark blue fabric and shucked her boots casually at the door, clearly comfortable with visiting the place. “Oh Uncle Gustus!” She exclaimed. “What have you done now?” She set out her stitching kit on the table. “Who boiled the water?” she asked as she looked around. Nathan cautiously put up a hand and she beamed at him, “Well done.” Nathan flushed lightly at the praise. 

Gustus nodded, “Everyone, this is my niece Maya. She is my sister’s eldest and as good a stitch as her mother.” 

Maya smiled warmly, her dark curls bouncing as she did so. “Hello everyone. I of course have heard all about you. I’m sure my uncle hasn’t mentioned me at all. He never does. He’s the worst like that.” She returned with a roll of her eyes. Pulling the fabric away from Gustus’ chin. “Okay I’m going to need one of you to fetch his shaving kit and come and shave him so that I can stitch this. He’s going to need more than a few and I’m going to need the beard cleared away.” 

They all stopped and looked at Gustus so he nodded at Harper and murmured, “In the washing room please.” 

“Are you sure you want me to?” she asked apprehensively. 

“Of course. I trust you Harper.” he replied quietly and felt something in the room shift with those words. The beard was trimmed away and he was a little sad about it but kept that thought to himself. Harper diligently worked to clear away the worst of it, promising to give him another shave once his face had a day or two of healing. Maya was satisfied and stitched up the wound with ease as she chatted on about new relationships she had seen blossom over the winter and the early arrival of an infant that had kept her up the night before. It was a shot of cheerful energy in a room of quiet. 

Once Maya had deposited a kiss on her uncle’s forehead, left detailed instructions on how to care for the obstinate man, and waved the rest of them off with a pledge to visit more now that the weather had improved, she trundled home again. With her she had taken the burst of warmth. Everyone was cautious and he frankly did not care for it. “This means I’m going to be eating soup for a week, doesn’t it?” he tried to joke but Harper just continued to regard him with wide, quiet eyes. The uncertainty was hurting his heart and he held out a hand toward her. 

The submissive stared at his hand for a long minute before taking it and letting Gustus pull her over to sit in front of him. “You fought the way I taught you to and I cannot hold you responsible for my own foolishness. I do not blame you. I am not angry with you. You are fierce and strong. I am very proud of you. As proud of you as I am embarrassed at my own foolishness for getting in your way at the wrong moment.” Gustus brushed a hand over that pale cheek, “You are a little warrior.” She didn’t so much hug him as dissolve into his arms, a teary cheek pressed to his shoulder. “Oh so this means I get extra Harper cuddles, hmmm? I should let you give me a new scar regularly if that’s the case.” Then she laughed and he was satisfied. It may have been a watery sort of laugh but it was still a laugh. He would take it. 

Bellamy finally relaxed, all the pressure falling from his shoulders as he collapsed into the dining table chair and stared at Gustus giving Harper a hug. He wasn’t sure what the boy was envious of, him or Harper. He stretched out a hand and brushed it over Bellamy’s cheek. 

“You did good, boy. Really good.” He had noticed the protective stance, the way he had gotten John out of the room and to a safe place. Blood was still hard for John to see. Bruises on the others that arose naturally from training would occasionally give him a panic attack, unable to breathe or think clearly. Nathan and Gustus clashed eyes and they both nodded, a gesture that made Gustus grin despite himself and the gravity of the emotion in the room. If his first son had lived, he would have been a lot like this Nathan, he was sure of it. They were cut from the same sort of cloth, even if the younger man was a submissive and he was a Dominant. Some things crossed all boundaries. 

Although Gustus’ head hurt from the injury and the blood loss and he mourned his now trimmed beard, he found he had no regrets as to the event. He recalled that even among their own people, these young ones were rarely given an opportunity to make an error without harsh retribution of some kind. It was a cruel world on its own, Gustus saw no reason to make it more so. Besides errors in training were how one learned. He would certainly not make such a foolish mistake again when sparring with his Harper. 

**_Emori_**

Emori had made an offer to lay with Gustus on her second night staying at Nover’s Healer House. The Hefa had gently declined and put her into bed with John again, advising her that here was where he knew her spirit needed to be. She couldn’t deny those words. The longer he waited though, the more nervous she became. There was a distinct difference between how Gustus treated her and John from how he treated the others. The touching was more intimate and affectionate. He did not restrain himself when it was just the three of them from plying Emori with soft kisses and cuddling John close. At first John accepted this reluctantly but over time, she noted that if he entered a room and there were a dozen places to sit, he would sit near Gustus.

Miraculously John’s eye healed enough for him to see again. The Healers grumbled about it for reasons she did not understand until Gustus explained that they had wanted to take the eye and he did not permit it. This was the point where she was sure she started to love the Dominant. Maybe before but definitely at this moment, she knew it had begun. He had saved her John, which meant he had saved her as well. 

They still covered John’s eyes for the journey home, worried that the light reflecting off the bright snow would be too much. He hated every second of it, squeezing her hand until she thought he might break it every time the sleigh hit a bump or turned a corner. Still, as they tucked into bed that night in their home, John had curled up in her arms, his back to her chest and she thought if this was where she spent the last of her days, she was alright with that turn of events. The submissive of a King was more standing than any _freikdreina_ had the right to claim. Gustus was unbothered by her hand, although many of his people were wary. 

That changed when her pregnancy started to show and he offered her the gold wrist band that would proclaim her as his. He wore a matching one with two twists of metal above indicating he claimed both of them. These kinds of cuffs were welded on, which had been slightly terrifying if she were honest. Gustus had offered one to John too but pointed out it was far too soon for him to tolerate a permanent band around his wrist. However, when he was ready, he had only to bring it to Gustus and arrangements would be made. More than a few times, she had caught John rolling the band between his fingers as if drawing comfort from it. Otherwise, the four others in the house wore a cuff with Gustus’ stamp and seal. This type of cuff could easily be removed but most of them wore it every day, a fact which she could tell the Dominant enjoyed. 

A hand brushed over her shoulder and Emori had been so lost in thought that she jumped and then laughed. “Did I scare you, my naughty girl?” He teased before dipping his head to dust a kiss over her throat. 

“Hefa?” she whispered. 

“Yes?” his reply was accompanied by a hand tracing gently over her abdomen to caress the slight curve he found there. Then it drifted under the fabric of her waistband to stroke the silken skin he found there, wandering lower and lower. She groaned quietly for he knew this kind of teasing made her wet. Turning in his arms, she lifted her hands to brush over his tattooed cheeks and along to his jaw. The shortened beard still amused her, although she wasn’t sorry it was back for when he licked her between her thighs she savouried the scratch and pressure of it. 

The oil lamp roared to life and John sat up just enough. He liked to watch as Gustus fucked her. Sex for him was still not on the table. The last time he tried, he had nearly blacked out from crying. Emori didn’t think any of the others had managed it either. Fortunately Gustus was tactile enough and bossy enough that all of the submissives in the household were easily getting their submission needs met. John had discovered recently that he really liked watching Emori with their Dominant though. Sometimes there were nightmares afterwards but those were getting fewer as time passed. 

As if taking John’s hint, Gustus began peeling off her clothing and tossing it toward the foot of his large bed. When Emori was nude, he lifted her onto the bed so that her cheek was pressed to John’s chest. Then he started to really touch her, everywhere and it seemed all at once. His energy left ribbons of patterns over her skin and she moaned and poured that energy into John as he carded his hands through her hair. 

“Such a dirty little girl. So wet that you are making a mess on the bed.” Gustus made teasing sounds of disapproval and while she knew they were feigned, she still closed her thighs together and then groaned at the sweet pressure. Naughty talk had always been a favourite and Gustus knew how to make her feel very needy and desperate. 

“Are you trying to hide your dirty pussy? Naughty little desert girl. I should spank your bare little bottom. Hmm? Would you like that? To be spanked where everyone can see?” Gustus taunted and she moaned, her hands wrapping around John as she tried to ground herself. 

“Open your legs. Do it. Show me that drippy, messy cunt. I should fuck it. Put it to good use.” She was gasping at the words as her knees shifted apart obediently, and she found herself kissing John’s throat and shoulder. She could feel the ridges of still healing wounds forming into scars and she licked at them as Gustus pressed a finger into her pussy and then added another one. She pushed back and then shifted forward again when he gave her ass a light spank. 

They were very careful about hitting in front of John. His tolerance was low but as long as she wasn’t crying, he could usually take it. If she needed that kind of attention, they went to the sparring area and Gustus would pin her over his lap, his hand tugging her hair and spank her until she was a wet, sobbing, over-wrought mess. It was exceptional and released all the pressure she had burning in her. It was an entirely different kind of workout and she was pretty sure it was one of those occasions when she conceived. Gustus was careful never to cause any of them pain, even in pursuit of submissive pleasure, in front of John. He had unintentionally pinched a particularly painful welt one time and John had nearly melted down into one of his attacks when he realized Emori’s cry was one of genuine pain. 

John’s hand cupped her face and he pulled her up into a heated kiss. This was rare enough that she sank into it with pleasure. She then gasped as Gustus followed through on his words and his cock pressed against her slick entrance. He teased her with it, making her whimper eagerly. “Please.” she finally whispered, against John’s soft full mouth. 

“Such a dirty girl.” Gustus repeated but he filled her slowly. He was not a small man and she felt everything as if he had poured boiling water over her nerve endings. She cried out as he filled her as much as he could and then withdrew. The fuck was slow for all his heated words. He was drawing it out and she groaned out her pleasure against John’s lips. Her lover tugged at her hair and held her close as her Dominant fucked her thoroughly. 

“Should I let her cum, John?” She heard the question and gasped. He had never done that before and her eyes flew to John’s face, handsome in the flickering light of the oil lamp. He appeared to be thinking about it! She groaned and then whimpered, “Please. I’m a good girl.” 

Then she felt it - John’s hand trailing along her back. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the two men’s hands tangle together for a moment before John’s hand continued under her abdomen. He teased her little button of nerves at the apex of her sex in a way he knew all too well. 

“Please. I’m good. I’m a good girl.” she pleaded again, unsure she had much stamina left as John tugged her into another kiss and his fingertips danced over her clit as Gustus’ cock continued to slowly fuck her body. It was too much. It was everything. She was in bliss and she never wanted to leave. 

“You can cum now.” Gustus finally allowed and she began to grind her hips, back against Gustus and forward against John’s teasing fingers. Gustus held her hips and made her work for it. Finally that delicious spiralling heat traced along her spine and she screamed, her hands clenching, her face pressed into John’s shoulder as she writhed and came. She slumped forward but Gustus was not done with her yet. He continued to ride her, making the shivers of the aftershock of orgasm drag out on the length of his cock. She moaned, unable to form words, and frankly, too blissed out to care. She was in the best place in the world, between the two men she loved with their attention was on her. By some miracle she came again, her knees no longer able to hold her and Gustus spilled his heat in her. 

She lay there panting in John’s arms, kisses tracing over her forehead and along the line of her jaw. Gustus had long figured out that all she wanted after a scene or even after sex was just to be held. Too many times when she was young Dominants would fuck her, use her and just get up and leave. John stayed and Gustus stayed. The two men who mattered most knew how to give her what she truly needed. Gustus arranged her so she was tucked better against John and then slid into bed behind her. His hands glided over her, warm and firm. She watched as the stroked John too, caressing his skin, fingertips over his abdomen. It made his breath shiver and she watched as soft kisses were exchanged between her men. That was still new and she could tell Gustus liked it - being able to kiss his boy. 

In a little while she would want to use the washing room and eat a little. Pregnancy had made her very hungry all the time. It was probably best she was doing it here where Gustus had a great deal of food to satisfy her, rather than in the desert, where it would have been much harder to come by. She ran her hand over Gustus’ cheek and felt him kiss her fingertips of her badass hand, as John called it. She glanced up at the man and smiled. “I love you, Sir.” she whispered before glancing at John’s wide blue eyes. “I love you too.” 

“I know Emori. I love you too.” John acknowledged and his arms squeezed her tightly for just a few seconds before releasing. Gustus kissed the top of her head and then John’s soft lips before whispering. “Just rest for a minute. You know this little minx of ours is going to want food any second now.” 

“Well actually…” she started and heard both men laugh. She laughed too, blushing lightly, but her heart sang in her chest at hearing John’s laugh again. It was still rare. 

“I knew it.” The older man grumbled as he slipped out of bed and pulled on some light trousers. “Washing room with you then straight back into bed. It’s cold tonight. I’ll bring the food up.” he instructed firmly. 

John folded one hand behind his head while looking down at her. “Well go on then. Right back here or I’ll tell him to take you out to that barn tomorrow and warm you up properly.” John teased. 

She flushed because the idea of John instructing Gustus to spank her was sending an interesting spool of heat into her satiated core. She stuck out her tongue at him and whispered, “Tease.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is continuing to read this work. I hope you are enjoying it and continuing to find it engaging. Thank you very much to my beta reader, DialedIn, for her ongoing support and friendship as well as her edits. Have a fantastic day all!


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